

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

©i^ap. ©oppnjli !]|a. 

Shelf„.rD.:tipT>u 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 






I -t 


« 


; r 








•» ' > T Ll d’ . * 

jr V ’/ 

•''n. 

% ^ 1 ^ ^ 
• « f -4 



7 ; ■ 

■"r’;‘ * ■ ' ’ ■' » ' 


L'. ' • 

> Vl'K 




1 


Jl 

r^>! 


\ 


'« • 



i1 




\'i 


'c* t * 

^ vw '•;• . 


.V 


_ ^ 







• - \9 > 




:• V, ' 


P 

* ^ • 


» 


u4'' 

'4 




>UV. -• >4*^’ 

i > *,i “• 











'•<f- •?■•■' »^'V.' . 

■ -?' <k;'. •• -■ 

y • \ <^1* - . 


^ ■•r 

* 



\ i' 


.;« ... I •■.■ 


jf'.-j' 




w •- 


* \ 




■/■ s 


:V‘- • . •- 

C -’ 


•I « t 


■-- v/-- ■-' J' • t i 




* t 


/. 


. V 


1. 


. » -.. 


f .' . 


. i-’ t- 




.• y./y 





v • • :>vv‘ • 


% « 


y V 


> Jt'; ' 


% t 






4 ' 


;; ;. V- ' V :#-■ 
^ ’ 4t* ■ S*j '' 



•- r W' 

^ ^ 




< « 




't * .§. 


* '■•. 


-’ • 


<. t 


-I 


if 









vi- 


tiv -■ 





V. ' 


f . 


» ^ 


IS6 




# « > 





■ ■*' . .«rr>> 


. . rtT - X* *^'* '■ 




< * 



L^r* 


•; . 


'r‘^\ 



"> • 


I 


. • V- > ‘ ■; ,-. 4’^i-f 


« la 


•. s 


\ 



• ^ •_i_kS 




> 





.► ^ * 


X ■ 


si 


I « 


4 


■ V • . ’ • •> t . 

• i. 




Jl: 


If 


ft «• 



or* ■ ' 

•i • • ‘w '.T •• . 


1 % 


t 

1 


K^a. !'i> *■' • \ 'r '*■■ : 


\ _ 


V/ - 4 ^* * 



. % 




r ... i '^M 

'V *•-»»; 

• . .7 >» . » ; . • % 

-i. * ■ - 


k • « 

I 

•• * 






A ■• '' 







» t 


, ' ' •• :• ■ i.'- . *•; 

• * * T ^ 

* * f *. . 


.f 1 




■v;. 
-» > • 
•’ij 


# 


I • 


' ' I y 

• > 

■- f 





I 


• * 

i 4 :i‘ 

.n- 




V’ 


j 

» ' 


* • . 


c 

• . 


. ..*"■ -- 




n- 




\: 

•. • ■!., \ j 


;» 




i 

• . « 


• ■ 
m 

p 

• 





**x 




, vV; ; ■?* 

kJ< ■/, 






•»f 





> • ./ ' - -■ . T V ' ■••' 

• % . ..-tc •. •. 

» • % ti •••-• • '■ 

/ -U' • • ^ 






f J 

. -1 . * • 


♦ • •* 


\W 1 ^ t . • I » ’ \ ■ 1 I 





'v. 

5 k.- r 



7.* 


A.-' 


• • .* i 


t 


V. » 


I* 


L'"' ' '^v* 
/V '■* * ' '*• 










.rr*-- ,' ,■.' .■'i,'‘j' r 

• .‘ . ''w ■ ,, 

■'>••* V 


\iy* 




'• M 


H 

‘ '*4 ' 


. • • *- .♦V’. 

’ • ^ 4 V 

/ /• ■' ■ '‘^. 


V ‘ . 


> 


.« » 


•r. 




> 

m 

iS»J 


► ' 


' ’ 4) • - ^ 

. 3 ' •• 


/T 


4- 

« 




/ 






<> 


> j 

1 


. * * 


I Vi 


i •/ 


M 

* - 




^ t - 


> »A.;' ‘ ‘ 

• » -f,** ’1 

^ ■ y r 


, ‘ » 


s 




■J^y 


' 


^ / 
4 ' 


' X, ^ 

I r 


A'. ‘T’ * 

.f- • 

I'" * .' -»V . ’m '• k’ 

• » 4 .\ I* • 4 * 

I ' Xu* 

.. f ^ A I . I 


Mv**, , , 

\ • * k 


V"’* I 




i.. 


./• 


/ 


« ■ I 


's;V^ 

"‘Hi 

>f!s 


V « * f . 


I I 






r^kA: 
k' fff 


r 


* V . 

L 


ft 


K - 




XU 




>• " 

: MV ^ * 


( 






, k. 



\ I 


■'.yv: ; '• 

’«•*'>.'♦ * ► . 

i . 


i’l‘ 


•• S • 

-•.vVv'A., 







TMce MM, M Only 0nc8..a Me. 

By Mrs. CEORCIE SHELDON. 


New York 
•^treet-6a^mith. Publishers- 

I 25~3I ROSE STREET. 


AN ENTERING WEDGE. 


THE 
STANDARD 
COCOA 
OF THE 
WORLD. 


The Messrs. Van Houten have put an enter- 
ing wedge into unhealthy domestic economy; 
by advertising a pure, soluble cocoa 
as a substitute for tea and coffee. As 
inventors and original patentees of 
cocoa, the Van Houten’s have in- 
troduced it so thoroughly all 
over Europe that ‘‘ Van Hou 
ten’s Cocoa ” has become 
a household word. The 
end of the wedge 
which has been in- 
serted here is 
fast making 
way for the 


THE 
STANDARD 
COCOA 
OF THE 
WORLD. 


Van Houten’s 
Cocoa. 

Van Houten’s Cocoa, 
Van Houten's Cocoa, 
Van Houten’s Cocoa, 


' leading 

Cocoa of 



Van Houten’s 
Cocoa. 

“Best & Goes Farthest.’’ 
“Best & Goes Farthest.’’ 
"Best & Goes Farthest.’’ 


It only needs a single trial to convince any one of the superiority of 
Van Houten’s Cocoa. Please insist upon your grocer or storekeeper ordering it 
for you, and take no substitute. It is put up in one-eighth, one-quarter, one- 
half, and one pound cans. If not obtainable, enclose 25 cents in stamps 

or postal note to either Van Houten & Zoon, 106 Reade Street, New York, or 
45 Wabash Avenue, Chicago, and a large sample can will be sent, postpaid, if you 
moniion pMiccU^iu Prepared only by Van Houten & Zoon, Weesp, Holland, 


MADAME ROWLEY’S 

TOILET MASK OR FACE GLOVE 



The Toilet Mask in position to the face 

To he worth three limes in the week. 


is the only natural beau- 
tijier for bleaching and 
preserving the skin and 
removing complexional 
imperfections. 

It is soft and pliable, 
and can be easily applied 
and worn without dis^ 
comfort or inconvenience. 

The Mask is patented, 
has been introduced ten 
years, and is the only 
genuine article of the 
kind. 

It is recommended by 
eminent physicians and 
scientific men as a sub- 
stitute for injurious cos- 
metics. 


A few Specimen Extracts from Testimonial Eetters. 


*‘I am so rejoiced at having- found at | “I find that It removes freckles, tan, 
last an article that will Indeed improve sunburn, and gives the complexion a 
the complexion.” soft, smooth surface.” 


“ Every lady who desires a faultless 
complexion should be provided with 
the Mask.” 


** I must tell you how delighted I am 
with your Toilet Mask; it gives un- 
bounded satisfaction.” 


“My face Is as soft and smooth as an 
Infant’s.” 


“ I am perfectly delighted with It,” 


“As a medium for removing discol- 
orations, softening and beautifying the 
Skin, I consider it unequaled.” 


“The Mask certainly acts upon ISie 
skin with a mild and beneficial’result, 
making it smoother and clearer, and 
seeming to remove pimples, irritations, 
etc., with each application.” 

“ It does even more than is claimed 
for it.” 


COMPLEXION BLEMISHES may be hidden imperfectly by 
cosmetics and powders, but can only be removed permanently by the 
Toilet Mask. By its use every kind of spots, impurities, roughness, 
etc., vanish from the skin, leaving it soft, clear, brilliant, and beauti- 
ful. It is harmless, costs little, and saves hundreds of dollars use- 
lessly expended for cosmetics, powders, lotions, ^tc. It prevents and 
removes WRINKLES^ and is both a complexion preserver and beau- 
tifier. Famous society ladies, actresses, belles, etc., use it. 

Valuable illustrated pamphlet, with proofs and full particulars, 
mailed free by 

THE TOILET MASK GO., 1167 Broadway, Now York. 


THE COUNTY FAIN. 

By NEIL BURGESS. 

Written from the celebrated play now 
running its second continuous season in 
New York, and booked to run a third sea- 
son in the same theater. 

The scenes are among the New Hamp- 
shire hills, and picture the bright side of 
country life. The story is full of amusing 
events and happy incidents, something 
after the style of our “Old Homestead,” 
which is having such an enormous sale. 

THE COUNTY FAIR” will be one 
of the great hits of the season, and should 
’ you fail to secure a copy you will miss a 
literary treat. It is a spirited romance of 
town and country, and a faithful repro- 
duction of the drama, with the same unique 
characters, the same graphic scenes, but 
with the narrative more artistically rounded, and completed than was 
possible in the brief limits of a dramatie representation. This touch- 
ing story effectively demonstrates that it is possible to produce a novel 
which is at once wholesome and interesting in every part, without the 
Introduction of an impure thought or suggestion. Read the following 

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS: 



Mr. Neil Bui^ess has rewritten his play, “The County Fair,” in story form. It 
rounds out a narrative which is comparatively but sketched in the play. It only needs 
the first sentence to set going the memory and imagination of those who have seen the 
latter and whet the appetite for the rest of this lively conception of a live dramatist.— 
Brooklyn Daily Boyle. 

As “The Coimty Fair” threatens to remain in New York for a long time the general 

E ublic ort of town may be glad to learn that the playwright has put the piece into print 
a the form of a story. A tale based upon a play may sometimes lack certain literary 
qualities, but it never is the sort of thing over which any one can fall asleep. For- 
tunately, ‘The County Fair” on the stage and in print is by the same author, so there 
can be no reason for fearing that the book misses any of the points of the drama which 
has been so successful — iV. T. Herald. 

The idea of turning successful plays into novels seems to be getting popular. The 
latest book of this description is a stoiy reproducing the action and incidents of Neil 
Burgess’ play, “The County Fair.” The tale, which is a romance based on scenes of 
home life and domestic joys and sorrows, follows closely the lines of the drama in 
story and plot.— CAicwo Ikiuy News. 

Mr. Burgess’ amusing play, “The County Fair.” has been received with such favor 
that he has worked it over and expanded it into a novel of more than 200 pages. It will 
be enjoyed even ^ those who have never heard the play and stiU more by those who 
ha,ye.—Cir3f'unati Times-Star. 

This touching story effectively demonstrates that it is possible to produce a novel 
Which is at once wholesome and interesting in every part, without the introduction of 
an impure thought or suggestion.— A Press. 

Street & Smith have issued “The County Fair.” This is a faithful reproduction ot 
the drama of that name and is an aff ecting and vivid story of domestic life, joy and 
•orrow, and rural scenes.— iSan Francisco Call. 

This romance is written from the play of this name and is full of touching incidents. 
‘-BoansviUe Journal. 

It is founded on the popular play of the same name, in which Neil Burgess, wh o is 
also the author of the story, has achieved the dramatic success of the season.— FVitt 
River Herald. 


Oouxxtr:^ is No. 33 of ‘<The Select Series,” for 

sale by all Newsdealers, or will be sent, on receipt of price, 26 cents, to any 
address, postpaid, by STBEET A Publishers, 26-31 Bose st, loii V 


THE SELECT SERIES 

A SEMI-MONTHLY PUBLICATION, 

Devoted to Grood Reading in A-merican H^iction, 

Subscription Price, $6.oo Per Year. No. 80.— MARCH 21, 1891. 

Copyrighted 1891, hy Street c6 Smith, 

Entered at the Post-Office, New York, as Second-Class Matter, 

Thrice Wedded, 

BUT ONLY ONCE A WIFE. 


BY 


MRS. OEORGIE SHELDON, 


AUTHOR OP 


‘^SIBYL’S INFLUENCE,” ‘‘THAT DOWDY,” “TRIXY,” “A TRUE 
ARISTOCRAT,” “LOST— A PEARLE,” etc. 


NEW YORK: 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

31 Rose Street.' 


on 


DENMAN THOMPSON’S OLD HOMESTEAD* ' 

8TBEEI & SMITH’S SELECT SERIES No. 2fL 

.E*rice, SS Oents* 

Some Opinions of the Press* 


** As the probahiutles are remote of the play * The Old Homestead * being 
•een anywhere but in large cities It is only fair that the story of the piece should 
he printed. Like most stories written from plays it contains a great deal which 
la not said or done on the boards, yet it is no more verbose than such a story 
should be, and it gives some good pictures of the scenes and people who for a 
year or more have been delighting thousands nightly. Uncle Josh, Aunt Tildy, 
Old Cy Prime, Reuben, the mythical Bill Jones, the sheriff and all the other char- 
acters are here, beside some new ones. It is to be hoped that the book will make 
a large sale, not only on its merits, but that other play owners may feel encour- 
aged to let their works be read by the many thousantfe who cannot hope to see 
them on the stage,”— T. Herald, June 2d. 

“Denman Thompson’s ‘The Old Homestead’ is a story’of clouds and sunshine 
alternating over a venerated home; of a grand old man, honest and blunt, who 
loves his honor as he loves his life, yet suffers the agony of the condemned In 
learning of the deplorable conduct of a wayward son; a story of country life, love 
and Jealousy, without an impure thought, and with the healthy flavor of the 
Helds in every chapter. It is founded on Denman Thompson s drama of ‘The 
Old Homestead.’ A. F. Press, May 26th. 

“ Messrs. Street & Smith, publishers of the New TorTc Weekly, have brought 
out in book-form the story of * The Old Homestead,’ the play which, as produced 
toy Mr. Denman Thompson, has met with such wondrous success. It will proba- 
toly have a great sale, ihus justifying the foresight of the publishers in giving the 
drama this permanent Action form.”— A. F. Morning Journal, June 2d. 

“The popularity or Denman Thompson’s play of * The Old Homestead’ has 
encouraged street & Smith, evidently with his permission, to publish a good-sized 
novel with the same title, set in the same scenes and including the same charac- 
ters and more too. The book is a fair match for the play in the simple good taste- 
and real ability with which it is written. The publishers are Street & Smith, and 
%hey have gotten the volume up in cheap popular form.”— A". F. Graphic, May 29. 
‘ “Denman Thompson’s play, ‘The Old Homestead,’ is familiar, at least by rep* 
ntatlon, to every piay-goer in the country. Its truth to nature and its simple 
pathos have been admirably preserved in this story, which is founded upon it 
and follows its incidents closely. The requirements of the stag^ make the action 
a little hurried at times, but the scenes described are brought before the mind’s 
eye with remarkable vividness, and the portrayal of life in the little New Eng- 
land town is almost perfect. Those who have never seen the play can get an 
excellent idea of what it is like from the book. Both are free from sentlmentall^jr 
and sensation, and are remarkably healthy in tone.”— AZbawj/ Express, 


“Denman Thompson’s ‘Old Homestead’ has been put into story-form ana \s Is- 
sued by Street & Smith. The story will somewhat explain to those who have not 
seen it the great popularity of the Brooklyn Times, June 8th. 

“The fame of Denman Thompson’s play, ‘Old Homestead,’ is world-wide. 
Tens of thousands have enjoyed it, and frequently recall the pure, lively pleasure 
they took in its representation. This is the story told in narrative form as well 
as it was told on the stage, and will be a treat to all, whether they ha^e seen the 
play or noV'— National Tribune, Washington, D. C. 


“Hero we have the shaded lanes, the dusty roads, the hilly pastures, the 
peaked roofs, the school-house, and the familiar* faces of dear old Swanzey, and 
the story which, dramatized, has packed the largest theater in New York, and 
has been a success everywhere because of its true and sympathetic touches of 
nature. All the Incidents which have held audiences spell- bound are here re- 
corded— the accusation of robbery directed against the Innocent boy, his shame, 
and leaving home; the dear old Aunt Tilda, who has been courted forthlrw 
years by the mendacious Cy Prime, who has never had the courage to propose ; 
the fall of the country boy into the temptations of city life, and his reeWry by 
toe good Oldman who braves the metropolis to And him. The story embodies ak 
toat toe play tells, and aU toat It suggests as well*”— Kansas Citn JounmL 
wjiruit 


THRICE WEDDED 


CHAPTER I. 

*^Q0\ AND MY WORST CURSES GO WITH YOU I" 

In a retired street in one of the inland cities of Massa- 
chusetts stood a neat and attractive little cottage of purest 
white, the dark green of its blinds making it seem still 
whiter beneath the dazzling sunshine of a lovely June 
morning. 

Its little gem of a yard was surrounded by the daintiest 
of white fences, and filled with the brightest and choicest 
of fiowers, showing that the owner was a person of taste 
and refinement. 

The neatly graveled walk, from which every intruding 
blade of grass was carefully plucked, led to a smooth, wide 
stepping-stone as clean and spotless as a daily application 
of soap and water could make it. 

The door stands invitingly open this bright morning, but 
we will not enter just yet. An introduction first is neces- 
sary to its inmates. 

The sound of wheels is heard, and down the street comes 
a light, elegant buggy, drawn % a noble, spirited, but yet 
gentle horse of coal black. On and on it comes, until, at a 
word from the driver, it stops directly in front of the gate 
before the little cottage. 

A boy of perhaps fourteen or fifteen years of age sprang 
lightly to the ground, tied his horse, then, with a look of 


6 


THBIGE WEDDED. 


eager expectation upon his face, walked quickly toward the 
open door. 

He was a bright and active-appearing youth, with a full, 
round face, whose frank, open expression won you at once. 
His eyes were a fine hazel, large and full. His forehead, as 
he lifted his hat and ran his fingers through the clustering 
rings of chestnut hair that crowned his head, shone white 
and fair as polished marble, and was broad and high. His 
nose was straight and rather thin for the rest of his face, 
while his mouth was small but very pleasant in its expres- 
sion, though there were certain lines about in that indicated 
firmness and a will of his own. 

He was manly in form and bearing, and there was a look 
of conscious pride upon his beaming face as he glanced 
complacently back at the handsome equipage at the gate, 
while the silver tinkle of a bell gave back an answering 
echo to his touch. 

^^Oh, mamma, Robbie has come at last.^^ 

And a bright' little elf sprang dancing into the hall, and 
instantly a pair of chubby arms were around Robbie^s neck, 
and a hearty smack testified to the warmth of his recep- 
tion. 

She was just the sweetest little bit of sunshine ever caught 
and imprisoned in human form. A little round rosy face, 
all smiles and dimples; a pair of laughing blue eyes that 
danced and sparkled every minute in the day with fun and 
mischief. A pug nose and a rosebud mouth, always ready 
to give and take the sweetest kisses, as she had already 
proved. Her hair hung in curls around her plump cheeks, 
and was a sort of yellowish brown — not at all red, reader, 
but the brightest and richest auburn you ever saw. 

Her figure was short and plump, while her little skipping 
fairy feet seemed almost too tiny to hold up so much pre- 
cious fiesh and blood. 

^'Oh, Robbie!'^ she said, almost breathless with delight and 
anticipation. thought you never, never, never would 
come; and mamma has coaxed and scolded to get me from 
the window, watching for you. She says its so unbecoming 
and unladylike to be so impatient; but I couldn’t help it, it’s 
so long since I had a ride. How nice the old pony looks, 
doesn’t he? and o-oh! you’ve had the buggy newly painted, 
too. What a grand time we will have! Come, I can’t wait 
any longer,” 


mmCB WEDDED. 


7 


The little witch was about to spring down the step, when 
a voice from within arrested her. 

‘^Dora, Dora, wait, my child, you have no collar or gloves. 
Your hat is on wrong side front, and your cape is not fas- 
tened; come here, my dear, and let me fix you.’^ 

A quiet, lady-like looking woman followed the pleasant 
voice, and approached her lovely little daughter with the 
missing collar and gloves. 

‘^Good-morning, Eobert,^^ she said, smiling. ^‘^Did you 
ever see such a little Miss Wild-fire before?'^ 

^^Good-morning, auntie! I can^t blame Dora a mite, for 
I can hardly keep still myself this bright day. I wish you 
could go with us.^^ 

^^Thank you, Kobert, I fear Dora would hardly consent, 
for she thinks it is a great thing for you to take her out 
alone. How is your father to-day?’^ 

‘‘He is about as usual, only he does not seem to be in very 
good spirits. I told him the other day he would be happier 
if he was a poor man and had to work for a living. He 
would then have something besides himself to think 
about.^^ 

“What did he say to that?^’ asked Mrs. Dupont. # 

“Oh, he only laughed and said I was a queer boy, and 
that I might work for my living if I wanted to.’"’ 

“Now, Dora, said her mother, “you must hold still or I 
shall never be able to dress you. Put on your gloves while 
I pin the collar. I fear Eobert will not wish to take you rid- 
ing often if you don't make a better appearance. Ladies 
never go to ride without their gloves.^' 

“But, mamma, I ain’t a lady; Tin only a little girl, and I 
hate gloves and starched things. 

The bright little face was very red just now from the 
effort of putting on the troublesome gloves, and there was 
something very like a pout upon the red lips. 

“Well, never mind, dear,'^ returned her mother, kindly, 
“you will forget all about them after you have started. 
Have a happy time, and come home and tell me all about 
it. I hope you are a careful d river, she added, turning to 
Eobert. “You won't forget that Dora is my all now.^^ 
“You may trust me, auntie, and then old Prince is so 
gentle there is no fear. Come, Brightie, you are ready now, 
and we will start. 

He took Dora by the hand, and leading her to the buggy, 


8 


THRIGE WEDDED. 


put her carefully in; then unfastening the horse he sprang 
lightly after her, and with smiles and waving of hands they 
started, and were soon out of sight. 

Mrs. Dupont stood looking after them for a few minutes, 
a happy smile upon her fine face. She was a widow, and 
this one pet lamb — this bright and winsome Dora was her 
all in the world. 

Her husband had been a physician, and had settled in 

S soon after marriage, building up a good practice, 

which increased every year; until he had earned this snug 
little home, which with a few thusands at interest, made 
him feel quite easy as to the future. Besides this he had 
his life insured for five thousand more, and so when he was 
suddenly stricken with a malignant fever, and knew he 
could not live, he felt that he should leave his dear oiies in 
comfortable circumstances if not in affluence. It was a 
heavy blow to Mrs. Dupont, for it left her almost alone in 
the world. She was an orphan, with no relatives except a 
maiden aunt, who, disapproving her union with the poor 
physician, had cast her off forever, and threatened to leave 
her large fortune to some charitable institution. 

Maggie Alroyd, scorning the fortune, married her own 
true love, and was happy with the penniless doctor. He 
had been dead now four years; having died when Dora was 
eight years of age. But he was not forgotten. His memory 
was still fondly cherished in their hearts, and not a day 
passed that loving words did not testify to the strength and 
depth of their affection for him. 

Eobert Ellerton, Jr., was the son of one of Dr. Dupont^s 
patients. A rich and influential man, who was proud as 
Lucifer of his wealth, and also his name, which he claimed 
was spotless. His wife had died when Eobert, their only 
child, was born, and he had never married again, his house- 
hold affairs being governed by a maiden sister. He had 
conceived a sudden attachment for Dr. Dupont, who had 
saved Eoberf’s life-— for Mr. Ellerton declared that he did — 
when he had a severe attack of the croup. 

There was nothing he would not do for the doctor after 
that; the families immediately became intimate, while Eobert 
and Dora grew to love each other like brother and sister. 
Better, in fact, for Eobert used to tell her that some time 
she should be '"his little bright-eyed wifeJ^ And he always 
called Mrs. Dupont "Auntie. 


mniCE WEDDED. 


9 


After the doctor died the intimacy continued, until with- 
in the last year or two Mr. Ellerton had suddenly become 
cold and distant, though he still allowed Kobert and Dora 
to visit each other. Whenever questioned why he did not 
visit them, his reply invariably was that his health was fail- 
ing and he did not go out much. Indeed, it seemed to be, 
for he grew thin, pale, sullen, and cross to everybody about 
him. 

Even Robert began to fear him and keep out of his way. 
But in his secret heart he worshiped his bright and hand- 
some boy, and planned his future course, building wondrous 
castles in the air for him. 

He was beginning to think that it was about time to put 
a stop to ^^Robert^s foolish fancy for that girl Dora,^’ for 
they could not always expect to Keep it up. His son would 
be rich, and would move in very different circles from the 
doctors daughter, who was comparatively poor. 

How well he succeeded the future alone ,will show! 

The youthful pair, all unconscious of these plots against 
their peace, and also of the very queer act in lifers drama 
which they were to play that bright June day, were riding 
briskly along the smooth, wide road that led into the coun- 
try, enjoying to the uttermost the green fields, sparkling 
brooks, and gay fiowers, with faces as bright and smiling as 
their own happy, joyous hearts could make them. 

Where are we going, Robbie asked Dora, suddenly 
remembering that she did not know. 

thought weM ride out to JST and look at Squire 

Moulton^s new statuary. I heard he had just received some, 
and that it’s the finest collection in the country. I have a 
nice little lunch in a basket here, and after we\e seen all 
we want to, we^ll go down by the lake and eat it. 

^‘^Oh, how niceP^ said Dora, clapping her hands. ^Ts it 
that great, big house with the beautiful grounds, where we 
went to the picnic last summer 

‘'Yes; only you remember I didn’t go. Father doesn’t 
like the "squire very much,” his face clouding for an instant. 

“What is the reason he does not like him?” asked Dora, 
inquisitively. 

. ‘T don’t know, I’m sure, only he was very cross last year 
when I asked if I might go to the squire’s picnic, and I 
thought he swore about him.” 

“I don’t care,” said Dora hotly. think he’s a real 


10 


THRICE WEDDED. 


nice man to give all the children a picnic, and we had a 
splendid time. I shouldn't think he'd let you go to-day, if 
he wouldn't then." 

^^He didn't know where I was going to-day. I asked if I 
might take old Prince, and he said yes; but I don't think 
there would be any harm in going to see the stat- 
uary," replied Robert, though the hot blood rushed to his 
face, as if he felt half guilty. 

‘'I don't think there is any harm, either; but, oh, Robbie, 
look at that squirrel there!— there he goes, right through 
the wall." 

"'Yes, and there goes its mate. Now they've both gone 
into that hole in that tree." 

"Yes; how cunning they were! I wish you and I were 
squirrels, with nothing else to do but run around in the 
sunshine all day, and eat nuts; it must be real fun, glanc- 
ing back wistfully toward the place where the squirrels had 
disappeared. 

"‘Oh, no, Dora, you don't, either; you forget that if we 
were squirrels we could not be married, and, you know that 
some day you are to be my little wife," replied Robert, 
looking roguishly at her. 

""Yes, I could be your wife just the same; for don't you 
suppose one of those squirrels was the other's wife? And 
then we shouldn't have to work. I hate to wash dishes, and 
dust, and 

"‘Well, Dora, interrupted Robert, ""you won't have to 
work when you marry me, for I shall have plenty of money, 
and you can have servants to do the work, and all youul 
have to do will be to dress up in pretty clothes and trinkets, 
and play all the time, if you want to." 

"‘Oh, that will be so nice, Robbie!" exclaimed Dora, heav- 
ing a sigh of relief at the pleasing prospect of not having to 
work. ""I wish I were your little wife now." 

""Do you?" he asked, a bright look coming into his face. 
""Well, I'll tell you what we will do. We will go and be 
married before we go home, then I can take you to mother, 
for she will be my mother too, then. Will you, Brightie?" 

""Yes, indeed, we will,'^ replied Dora. ""Then my name 
will be Dora Ellerton, won't it? I think it's a real pretty 
name, too. But who will marry us, Robbie?" 

""I don't know. I guess Squire Moulton will; he's justice. 


mmCB WEDDED. 


11 


or something. Any way, Fll ask him. Come, get up, old 
Prince, for we are going to be married.'^ 

He touched the horse lightly with the whip, and these 
two children, so full of their fun and mischief, laughed, 
chatted, and planned for the future, little dreaming of the 
sorrow and misery they were about to entail upon them- 
selves. 

At length they rode up the broad drive-way, and stopped 
before the squire^s elegant country seat. 

He was not in, the man said, who opened the door for 
them, but guessed they would find him somewhere about 
the grounds. 

^^Well, no matter, said Robert, who was beginning to 
feel a little embarrassed with his strange errand. will 

go and find him.^^ 

And taking Dora by the the hand, they strolled down one 
of the beautiful walks until they came to a rustic arbor. 

On looking within they discovered a little bent man of 
about fifty, with sharp black eyes and grizzly hair. 

He looked up crossly as they entered, and demanded what 
they wanted, in a tone that made Dora shrink closer to 
Robert’s side. 

^^Are you Squire Moulton, sir?^^ asked Robert, respect- 
fully. 

^‘Yes, Pm Squire Moulton. What is it?^^ he replied sar- 
castically mimicking the boy^s manner. 

^‘ WeVe come to be married; thaPs what we want,^^ said 
Dora, smartly, at the same time snapping her large eyes 
angrily at him. 

"^Cometo be married, indeed! Ha! ha! ha!^^ 

The little gray-headed old man went off into a paroxysm 
of laughter that made the echoes ring all over the grounds, 
while his evil black eyes glowed with the intensity of his 
merriment. 

^^And pray,^^ he continued, when he could find breath to 
speak, and looking amusedly at the youthful pair before 
him, ^‘who are you, and what may be the names of the 
parties who wish to assume the hymeneal yoke 

And he laughed again. 

‘^My name is Dora Dupont, and Robbie^s is Robert Eller- 
ton, and you neednT laugh, either, for weVe been engaged 
this long time.'’^ 

There was a sudden change in the man^s manner, and he 


mmOE WEDDED. 


12 

repeated, with a dark scowl, looking first at one, then the 
other. 

^/Been engaged this long time, have you?^^ 

^^Yes, we have, and if you won^t marry us, we can go to 
some one else. Robbie is rich, and I guess he can pay for 
it, so you needn^t be afraid about that.^^ 

The indignant little lady^s face was of a crimson hue, and 
her blue eyes snapped fire, while she enforced her speech 
with a stamp of her tiny foot, as she stood erect and defiant 
before him. 

They made a strange picture, and one that each remem- 
bered in the long, dreary years that followed. That gray 
old man, with his evil face, and wicked eyes, sitting there, 
looking so intently at the two children before him. Robert, 
with his* fine, manly face, gibwing with excitement and ex- 
ercise, a smile wreathing his full lips at Dora's anger, while 
at the same time there was a half perplexed look in his eyes 
at the old man^s words and manner. He was holding 
Dora's hand in a protecting sort of way, while she stood all 
flushed and indignant, and half ready to cry at the bare 
idea of being made fun of, her hair tossed and flying with 
every motion of her quivering little form. 

Yes, it was an interesting and striking picture beneath 
that rustic arbor, with the waving trees, the bright sunshine, 
and beautiful flowers, for a back-ground, interspersed here 
and there with the gleaming white figures of statuary, and 
an occasional glimpse of the silvery waters of a miniature 
lake, as the waving branches of the trees were parted by a 
gentle breeze. 

As Dora mentioned the name of Robert Ellerton, a sud- 
den change came over the squire's wrinkled face. 

He became ashy pale, his lips were clenched beneath his 
teeth until they sank deep into the flesh, and his coal-black 
eyes became almost red with the fierce blaze of passion that 
seemed to stir him. 

His frame quivered, and he glanced at the youthful lovers 
in a way that frightened Dora, who pulled Robert by the 
sleeve, and whispered that she was afraid, and wanted to go 
home. 

Robert stood silent and spell-bound, at the sudden and 
almost terrifying change in the squire's manner, staring at 
him with wonder-wide eyes, and gaping mouth. 

^‘Robert Ellertonl" at length almost gasped the man. 


mmCB WEDDED, 13 

^‘And is your fatlier^s name Kobert Ellerton, too, young 
nian?^^ 

^‘Yes, sir/’ replied the boy, still regarding him with sur- 
prise. 

^"And your mother— tell me quick/’ he continued, hastily, 
and almost sternly, 

‘^My mother is dead, sir. She died when I was born, and 
Aunt Nannie has always taken care of me.” 

^^Dead! Oh, Heaven, dead! Jessie dead!” muttered the 
old man, pressing his hand to his side, and staggering back 
upon the seat from which he had, just arisen. 

Great beads of perspiration stood upon his brow, and his 
hands shook as if with palsy, as he took his handkerchief 
from his pocket and wiped them olf. 

^^Oh, Jessie,” he wailed, ‘^thou wertlost to me before, but 
I did not think that thou hadst gone so long to the regions 
of the unknown. 

^^Say, boy,” he added, and he clutched Eobert almost 
fiercely by the arm, ^%as you father kind to her? Did she 
love him?'’ 

^^Of course he was kind to her — of course she loved him,” 
replied Kobert, indignantly, but wondering still more at the 
man’s strange behavior. 

^^Come, Dora,” he added, ^^we will go home; we won’t 
stay here any longer.” 

He again took Dora’s hand, which he had dropped in his 
astonishment, and started to leave the place. 

^^Stay,” said Squire Moulton, quickly, and a wicked ex- 
pression swept away the agony that had been on his white 
face a moment before, while the devilish look came back to 
his evil eyes, though he tried to control it, and render his 
manner pleasant and affable. 

^‘^Stay, my young friends, you shall have your wish. I will 
marry you. I used to know your mother, young man, and 
hearing that she was dead took me by surprise. Yes, I will 
marry yon, certainly,” he continued, gleefully rubbing his 
hands together; ^^only tell me first who this young lady is. 
Is her papa rich like your father?” 

^^No, sir,” replied Dora, promptly, her anger vanishing at 
the squire’s pleasant manner. ^^Poor papa is dead; he was 
a doctor; and my name is Dora, and mamma lives in a lit- 
tle cottage; but that is no matter, for Robbie will be rich, 
so it doesn’t make any difference.” 


14 


mniCE WEDDED. 


tio> certainly not, my little iniss," and he laughed 
disagreeably again. 

^‘You stay here a few minutes while I go and make out a 
Certificate— for, luckily, I happen to be clerk as well as jus- 
tice— and then ril come back and perform the ceremony, 
and you shall be truly Mrs. Kobert Ellerton before you go 
home.’^ 

So saying the squire strode with hasty steps toward his 
elegant mansion, where, once within his library, he gave 
fi’ee vent to his pent-up feelings. 

With clenched hands and wrinkled brow he paced back 
and forth the spacious length of that great room, cursing, 
bitterly cursing, and muttering to himself : 

^‘Oh, Robert Ellerton, he said, have you now; I can 
now pay you twice told for all my weary years of woe and 
anguish. You shall moan and weep, and gnash your teeth, 
even as I have done. Your false pride shall have a blow 
from which it will never recover. I remember you too well 
to know how it would gall you to have your son marry a 
poor girl, and under such circumstances, too. And he — he 
too, will chafe in the future at the chain that binds him. I 
know how you have built proud castles in the air for him, 
even as you used to for yourself, but they shall all tumble 
about your ears in confusion. It is in my power to crush 
you now, and, curse you, I will do it! Oh, Jessie, my poor 
blossom, had you but given yourself to me, how bright 
would I have made your life! I would have held you close 
— close to this beating heart, and it should have given you 
life. My life has been, and is, like the dregs of the wine- 
cup, sour and bitter, but you could have made it sweet and 
fragrant as burning incense. But now there is nothing left 
but revenge, and— I will take it! Oh, how I hate you, 
blighter of my happiness! I curse you! and I will crush 
you and yours if I can.^^ 

It was a fearful passion that moved him. One moment of 
intense hatred and anger toward one whom he imagined had 
wrecked his life. The next full of tenderness and sorrow 
for the one loved and lost sweetness of his existence. It was 
a long pent-up agony flowing afresh over his soul, a wound 
long since healed and scarred over now torn rudely open, 
and pouring forth his inmost heart's blood. He tore his 
hair, he beat his breast, as he strode wildly back and forth. 


THRICE WEDDED. 


15 


until at last, utterly overcome, he sank back exhausted upon 
a chair. 

Several moments passed, when with a mighty effort he 
conquered his emotion in a measure, and rising, he went to 
his secretary, took out some papers, and sitting down, com- 
menced writing. He soon finished, folded the paper, and 
then went back to the arbor, where the children, having 
forgotten all unpleasantness, were chatting merrily. 

They became silent as he approached, and looked uneasy; 
but he entered with a pleasant smile, told them to rise and 
take hold of each other^s right hand, and going hastily 
through the marriage service, he soon pronounced them 
man and wife. 

His own face paled as he looked into those so earnestly raised 
to his, and his heart half sank within him as the thought of 
what he had done rushed over him. But he quickly cast it 
from him, and giving the folded paper to Dora, he told her, 
with a sinister smile, that she must never part with it, but 
treasure it sacredly, or she could not prove that she was Eob- 
ert^s wife. 

She took it, with a feeling half of awe, half of shame, 
and thrust it quickly within the depths of her pocket. 

How could that bold, bad man stand up so calmly and 
perform such a mockery in the sight of Heaven? How 
could he so deliberatety plan to blight and crush two inno- 
cent hearts and lives— two babes, as it were, who had never 
had a thought or wish of evil for any of God^s creatures? 
He little knew or realized to what extent his threat would 
be carried. Perhaps, could he have looked into the future, 
even he would have shrunk from the depth of woe to which 
his curses consigned them. 

After he had performed this diabolical act, he instantly 
became the most agreeable of hosts, taking them all over 
his grounds, showing them the statuary, and explaining the 
different subjects to them; afterward giving them a sail upon 
the miniature lake in the daintiest of dainty boats. He then 
invited them into the grand old house, where, after look- 
ing a half-hou;' or so at some magnificent paintings, he 
ushered them into a pleasant little room, where they found 
a tempting little treat of strawberries and cream and cake. 

They made merry here for a while, and then, as their 
buggy was ordered to the door, they bade their host a plea- 


16 '*■ THRICE WEDDED." '^ 

sant good-by, thanking him for his kindness to them; took 
their seats, and drove merrily away. 

Squire Moulton watched them until they disappeared 
from view; then, raising one clenched hand, he shook it 
threatingly, and hissed through his shut teeth: 

^^Go, you young fools! and my worst curses ga with youP^ 
He then went within, slamming the door violently after 
him. As he did so, two men arose from behind some 
bushes and shrubs which grew beside the arbor where the 
strange marriage had taken place, and stealthily made their 
way out of the grounds, whispering as they went. 


CHAPTER IL 

. ^^YOU dok't kkow what you have doheP 

All unmindful of the withering curses invoked upon their 
devoted heads, the young and newly-wedded pair went on 
their homeward way, as happy and light-hearted as they 
had come, little dreaming of the reception that awaited the 
announcement of their mad freak — little dreaming of the 
sudden and cruel separation in store for them — that the 
bright day so happily begun, and well-nigh spent, was to 
close, as it were, in a night of black despair, and long, 
long years of weary sorrow and heart-pangs intervene ere 
joy and reunion would come again to them. 

Old Prince held his head higher than ever, and stepped 
briskly along on the homeward route, as if half conscious 
of the new and strangely important relations which the 
occupants of the buggy bore to each other. 

^‘Well, Robbie, I don^t feel any different from what I did 
before, do you?^"^ asked Dora, with a comical look on her 
rosy face. 

^^Why, no, Brightie; I didn^t expect to, did you?’^ 

^‘1 d^no,^'’ replied the child, looking somewhat confused. 
^‘Well — yes — I thought folks who got married felt bigger 
and grander some way.^^ 

Robert laughed, 

'^Did youP’ he asked. guess it must be because they 
always have on new clothes, and are fixed up so much.'’^ 

^‘Perhaps so,^^ replied Dora, still looking puzzled. ^^And 


THRICE WEBBED, 


17 


now Tm married, I suppose I shall have to wear my dresses 
long, like other ladies, and do my hair up in a waterfall 
behind, and wear bonnets instead of hats, and, oh, dear I 
now I shall always have to wear gloves and stiff collars/'’ 

She heaved a little sigh here, half regretful, but pres- 
ently went on: 

^‘^And, Eobbie, you must have a tall hat and a long-tailed 
coat, and I wish you had whiskers and a mustache; then I 
guess it would seem more real, but I don’t feel a bit as if I 
was married now.” 

Eobert looked rather sober and sheepish, as he answered: 
don’t know, Dora; Fm afraid we shouldn’t know each 
other rigged up in that style. I don’t think I should like 
you half so well, with your hair bobbed up behind, and 
then the long dresses would cover up your pretty little feet; 
and Fm sure I shouldn’t know how to act in a stove-pipe 
hat, and a long-tailed coat. I like you best as you are, 
Brightie, so I guess we hadn’t better change.” 

^‘But,” persisted the little lady, still fearful they would 
not be able to support the dignity of man and wife, ^^don’t 
you think you could raise some whiskers? I think you 
would look real nice if you had some like Professor Allen.” 
could get some false ones, if you want ” 

^^Ugh, don’t!” shivered Dora, as she thought of the 
horrid thing she had seen in the shop windows on the street. 
^‘Well, I dpn’t care much any way,” she continued; ^'but 
what do you suppose mamma will say?” 

rather think she will be surprised when I call her 
mother, for I love her dearly, and you know I never had 
one of my own.” 

His bright face fell for a moment. 

don’t believe I can ever say papa to your father. He 
has been so sober and cross lately Fm almost afraid of him.” 

guess he’ll get over that when he finds out what a 
pretty little daughter he’s got,” replied Eobert, with a fond 
look into the lovely face of his little bride. ^'Here we are 
at home again,” he added, as he drew up before the gate. 
^‘Whoa, old Prince, till I help my wife out and take her 
into mother.” 

Old Prince stopped in obedience to the word of command, 
and Eobert helped Dora out just as Mrs. Dupont’s smiling 
face appeared ac the door of the cottage to welcome them 
home. 


18 


THRICE WEDDED. 


Kobert, taking Dora gravely by the hand, led her up to 
her mother, and said: 

‘‘How do you do, mother? WeVe had a nice day, and 
I’ve brought my wife back to you safe and sound/^ 

Mrs. Dupont laughed a light mocking laugh, as she said, 
with comic seriousness: 

‘ ‘Happy to see you, little Mrs. Ellerton, and very glad to 
know you have had such a nice time."^^ 

‘‘Very nice time, indeed, mamma, replied Dora, with 
funny dignity; “only the man who married us acted so 
strangely that I was almost afraid of him. However, he 
got over it, and it's all right now.'^ 

“Eeally, my dear madam,'' replied her mother, still will- 
ing to humor what she thought was one of their old jokes, 
“who was the clergyman that married you?" 

“Oh, it wasn't a minister at all, mamma, but Squire 
Moulton, and he gave me the certificate, and told me I 
must never part with it, or I couldn't prove I was Bobbie's 
wife." 

“Nonsense, Dora, what do you know about a marriage 
certificate?" 

“Well, but, mamma, he did, and I have it here in my 
pocket — haven't I, Eobbie?’' 

“Yes," answered Eobert, now glad of a chance to say a 
word; “and you are really and truly my mother now. 
Aren't you glad you have a son?" 

She did not answer; she looked first at one, then at the 
other with a puzzled expression, hardly knowing what to 
make of the affair. Both their faces were so earnest, and 
they talked in such a matter-of-fact way, that she could not 
comprehend it. 

At last Dora, who had been fumbling in her pocket, took 
out the certificate and handed it to her mother, saying, 
triumphantly: 

“There, mamma, read and see if we ain't married, really 
and truly." 

Mrs. Dupont was frightened, and sank down pale and 
faint on the door-step, the paper still folded in her fingers. 

“Now, Eobert and Dora, if this is a joke," she said, “you 
have carried it far enough; but if you are in earnest, tell 
me all about it at once." 

Eobert then related all that had transpired from the time 
they left home until their return. He told her how tliQ 


^MicE Wedded. 


squire had questioned him about his father and mother, how 
angry and excited he seemed to get, and about his wanting 
to know if Dora's papa was rich, etc. He described the 
marriage ceremony, their ramble around the grounds, their 
sail on the lake, and their treat in the house, with such 
truthful manner that Mrs. Dupont could not doubt him. 

With trembling fingers and paling lips Mrs. Dupont 
opened the paper, and saw it was a regular certificate, with , 
the children's names and ages attached. She could no 
longer doubt the truth of what she heard and saw. 

With a low moan the paper dropped from her hand, and 
she cried out in frightened tones: 

“Oh, Kobert, oh, Dora, my children, what have you 
done?" 

“Why, mamma!" exclaimed Dora, in astonishment, “I 
thought you'd like it. You know I always promised to be 
Bobbie's wife, and now I am, what makes you feel so? I'm 
sure I’m as glad as can be." 

“Stop!" replied her mother, sternly. “You foolish child, 
you know not what you have done." 

Poor innocent Dora had never heard her mother speak so 
before, and with her heart almost broken she rushed sobbing 
into the house, and crouched half frightened in a corner. 

Robert, who had listened to all that passed, with surprise 
and almost anger, grew pale himself at Mrs. Dupont's 
strange manner, and began to think it had not been such a 
happy day after all. That he had done a serious thing was 
certain, though for his part he could not yet see the harm. 

“Robert," at length said Mrs. Dupont, “ drive home as 
quickly as you can, and bring your father to me, I must 
talk this matter over with him immediately. 

Robert became seriously alarmed. He thought if he had 
done anything that demanded a solemn conference with his] 
father, it must be serious indeed. 

“Auntie," he said, looking wistfully into her face and ad- 
dressing her by the old name, “I am sorry you feel so badly 
about this, but do not blame Dora, for I alone am to blame 
for all that has happened." 

“Go!" she said wearily, pointing toward his buggy. 

“But please, auntie " 

“Go bring your father here. My brain is in a whirl, I 
cannot think or act until I have seen him." 


20 


mmCE WEDDED. 


She stooped and picked up the paper she had dropped, 
and then entered the house. 

With a long drawn sigh and a quivering lip he turned to 
obey her, and entering his buggy, drove rapidly toward home, 
fearing, he knew not what, but his heart was heavy within 
his bosom. 


CHAPTEE III. 

^^THE FUTURE WILL SHOW.^^ 

While Eobert is gone* for his father we will return to 
Squire Moulton's mansion. 

It was a large and elegant building, unique in its archi- 
tecture and adornments, and furnished with the most ex- 
quisite taste. It was a home of exceeding beauty, but, with 
all its costliness and splendor, it was a dreary and lonely 
home, for its master lived alone, with only his servants for 
companions. IN’o loving smile from a tender and affection- 
ate wife greeted him when he came; no watchful eyes or 
listening ears waited to catch the shadow of his form, or the 
sound of his footsteps; no prattling voices made the lofty 
rooms ring with their joy and merriment, or sang out the 
glad word ^^papa^' at his approach. No, it was a dreary life 
of lonely splendor. 

I said he lived alone ; but not alone all of the time, for 
his nephew, Ealph Moulton, a youth of seventeen, made his 
lindens mansion his home, and was always there to spend 
his holidays. The squire had brought him home when he 
came from abroad, and when the boy was very young, merely 
saying he was his nephew and would always remain with 
him. 

He gave him every advantage, which, to the lad^s credit 
be it said, he eagerly improved, and he was now preparing 
for college. He was a clever, active youth, very attractive in 
form and feature, and when nothing went wrong was pleasant 
and agreeable. But when in a passion he displayed the 
same sinister emotions that moved his uncle. He was sel- 
fish and cruel at heart, aiming only to gratify his own de- 
sires and passions, in spite of all opposition. Eeport said 
that he was to inherit the squire^s property, indeed he had 
been brought to believe so himself, and the world bowed 


mmOE WEDDED. 


SI 

down in reverence and humility accordingly. He was now 
at home on a few days^ vacation. 

The squire, on entering his mansion, after the departure 
of the children, proceeded in deep thought to his library 
again. When here he violently pulled a bell-rope, and then 
seated himself in a large easy-chair, burying his face in his 
hands. 

Presently the massive door swung softly open, and a ser- 
vant stood respectfully awaiting his commands. 

Squire Moulton raised his head and said, in a harsh 
voice: 

^Ts Master Ealph in?^^ 

^^[N’o, sir,^^ replied the man, ^‘he went fishing this morn- 
ing, and has not yet returned. 

^‘Well, send him immediately to me on his return. You 
may go.^^ 

With an humble bow the man disappeared. 

Half an hour, perhaps more, elapsed, when the sound of 
whistling was heard in the hall, and immediately the door 
opened again, and the young man in question entered. 

He was dressed with exquisite neatness, and very gentle- 
manly in bearing and manners. 

^‘Well, uncle, John told me I was wanted here, so I came 
as soon as I could get off some of the fish smell — such 
mean luck I never had before, he said, a vexed look com- 
ing into his handsome face at the remembrance. 

did wish to see you, Ealph; be seated, for I have much 
to say to you.^^ 

The young man obeyed, inwardly wondering what was 
coming. 

^^Did you ever hear me speak of a man named Eobert 
Ellerton?^' asked the old man, looking sharply at his 
nephew. 

^^No, sir, but I\e seen you look mighty cross if any one 
else happened to speak his name in your presence, was the 
curt reply. 

^‘You perhaps know that he has a son by the same name?’"' 
was the next query. 

^^Yes, sir, Pve met him, and he^s a tip-top fellow, for a 
youngster, and smart as chain lightning 1^"^ 

The squire^s face was black as night at this stream of 
praise, which, coming from such a source, annoyed him ex- 
ceedingly. 


mmOE WEDDE3. 


^^Spare your praises/^ he said sarcastically; ^^perhaps you 
won^t laud him so highly when you hear what I have to tell 
you/^ 

^‘Well, out with it, uncle. What has the boy done? 
Thrown a Soone and broken one of your treasured nymphs 
out yonder 

And Ralph motioned toward the grounds, which could be 
seen from the deep bay-window near which they sat. 

Cease your nonsense, boy, and listen, for I have a story 
to tell you,’^ replied Squire Moulton, angrily. 

He paused a few moments, while an expression of pain 
swept over his hard face. At length, with an effort, he 
began; while Ralph listened, wonderingly. 

When I was a boy of nineteen or twenty, I loved a beau- 
tiful girl. Her name was Jessie Almyr. I need not de- 
scribe her; my days of rhapsodies are passed. Sufficent that 
I loved her with all the fire of my heart. It had grown with 
the growth of years, for we had been intimate from child- 
hood, and I had almost begun to consider her as rightfully 
belonging to me. 

^‘1 had never told her of my love; I was poor then, and 
would not offer her an empty hand. I had written to an 
uncle in the city for a situation, and was waiting for an 
answer, which, if favorable, I felt would then place me in 
a position that would warrant my telling Jessie how dear 
she was to me. 

While waiting for the much-wished for answer, a young 
man two or three years older than myself came to our village. 
He was rich, talented and handsome. He was introduced 
to Jessie, and, of course, loved her, too. Who could help it 
that knew her ? But I will not anticipate. The long- 
looked for letter at last arrived, telling me that I could have 
the situation, and offering me an ample salary, more than I 
had expected, and I felt that now 1 could support my bride 
in comfort. Wild with joy, I sought her and poured out the 
whole story of my love, not dreaming but that her reply 
would be all I could wish. She listened with downcast eyes 
and beating heart ; I could see it throb beneath the folds of 
her dress. Her cheek was fiushed, and I felt that I was al- 
most sure of my prize, when — oh, my God 1 I can never 
forget it 

The squire stopped and covered his face with his hands, 
while tears gathered in his eyes and rolled down his withered 


THRICE WEDDED. 


23 


cheeks, as the memory of his blighted hopes rushed over 
him. It was some minutes before he could proceed, and 
there was utter silence in the room. Finally he raised his 
head; a stern, hard look had taken the place of the softened 
expression, and he continued: 

‘‘We were standing before a window that looked out on 
the western sky; the sun was just setting, and its yellow 
rays streamed in a golden glory all around my love, making 
her look like some bright-robed divinity. When I had 
finished telling her my hopes and plans, her lips moved as if 
she was about to speak, and I bent my ear to catch the 
blessed words. She raised her eyes, and I could have 
sworn that the love-light was in their bright depths; but — 
the sound of a horse s footsteps outside drew them from me 
to rest on the handsome face and figure of Kobert Ellerton 
as he rode by on horseback. 

“He saw us, bowed gracefully, and waved one daintily 
gloved hand to her. 

“The look of love fled from my darling^s eyes, as his form 
passed from sight, and with an absent-minded air she said 
she was afraid she did not love me well enough to be my 
wife — that she could not give me as much in return as I 
could wish. 

“I protested that if she would only be mine, I would never 
complain of a lack of affection. She replied that she would 
think of my offer for a day or two before she gave me her 
answer. I gazed at her for a moment in astonishment — I 
was so sure she loved me ! I could hardly believe it was the 
same Jessie whom I had always worshiped — her manner was 
so changed. 

“Half-mad with jealousy, and the fear that I might lose 
her after all, I seized her in my arms and kissed her passion- 
ately. She gently released herself, and I went away — and — 
I never spoke to her again ! 

“A few days after, she sent me a note, telling me she 
could not be my wife — that she did not love me well enough, 
and she would not wrong me by giving me her hand without 
her heart. 

“Oh ! I saw it all ! I saw it all ! Another had usurped my 
place ! Ealph, listen to me 

The agitated old man leaped forward, while he whispered, 
hoarsely : 

“In three months from that time she married that villain. 


24 


THRICE WEDDED. 


Kobert Ellerton — that city dandy. Yes, she choose a shal- 
low love, of three or four months’ growth, to a devotion of 
years — but he was rich, and I was poor. But I swear he 
stole her from me — he stole her from me — the thief that he 
is r 

The bitter remembrance was too much for the squire, and 
he sank back nearly fainting in his chair. 

Ralph sprang up" poured out a glass of wine, and held it 
up to his lips. He swallowed it eagerly, and it revived him. 
He was about to proceed, when his nephew interrupted 
him : 

^‘'Uncle, do not finish your story to-night. Some other 
time will do as well ; though, for the life of me, 1 canT see 
yet what I have to do with it.^^ 

^^ISTo, no, my boy; I must finish it now; I should not 
have courage to begin again. Well, they were married, and 
went to their city home — for he was rich, and lived in great 
style — while I was left to my loneliness and desolation, with- 
out a thought or care. But I swore revenge, deep and fear- 
ful, and since I have had means to secure it, I have sought 
to keep my oath! For awhile I lost track of them, but fin- 
ally followed them to this city, though I only heard to-day 
that Jessie was dead. She died nearly fifteen years ago, 
and I never knew it until to-day. And to-day I have begun 
my work of revenge in earnest. « 

He then narrated how he had married the children, and 
sent them home with the certificate made out in due form 
in their pockets. 

^^Now Ralph/^ he continued, ^%hat I want of you is to 
help me fulfill my oath. I want you to watch this boy and 
defeat every plan of his life. Be his evil genius, as it were. 

I have given the father a heavy blow in marrying his son to 
a poor girl, for he is as proud as Lucifer. I donT care what 
you do or how you do it, only ruin him, and his girl-wife, 
too. I want them to experience a little of what I have suf- 
fered, and of what has made me an old man before my time. 
I look more than fifty, and am not yet forty. In return for 
your promise to do this I will bequeath you all my fortune. 
I may not live to see the end of it — I' do not expect to, for 
I have heart disease, and am liable to die at any time. Will 
you do it?^^ 

Ralph had been deeply interested in his uncle's story, but 


mmCB WEDDED, 25 

he hesitated now to give the desired promise. At last he 
said: 

don^t know, uncle, about it; it^s a pretty hard task to 
set a fellow, to avenge another man^s injuries, especially 
when he’s in no way concerned himself. 

^Terhaps youh^e more concerned in it than you think, 
replied his uncle, eying him wickedly. 

should like the fortune well enough, but I thought — I 
have always thought I was to have that anyway. 

^^Oh, really, young man, have you? Pray, who informed 
you to that effect?^' sneered the squire. 

Kalph blushed angrily. 

have been brought up with that hope always held out 
to me. If any one is to blame in the matter I think iPs 
you,^^ he retorted. 

^ ^Indeed I But let me ask you, have you any conscien- 
tious scruples about undertaking this affair 

^^Hang it, noP answered Ealph. ^^Conscience and I 
don^t trouble each other much. But how do I know but 
you may get a grudge agaiixst me sometime, and then where 
will the fortune go?^^ 

^‘Very well, young man, you can do as you choose about 
it,^^ replied the squire, bitterly. “But as long as a fortune 
of half a million does not seem to tempt you, perhaps I 
can whisper a word in your ear that will have more weight 
with you ; and you will be glad to seek revenge on your own 
account.^^ 

“Well, what is it?^^ impatiently demanded the boy. 

“Presently, presently; but first tell me why you thought 
you would be my heir.^^ 

“Why, I am your nephew for one thing, and 

“My nephew, are you? Can you prove it?^^ 

“Prove it! what do you mean, sirT^ 

Ralph was beginning to be frightened at the othePs man- 
ner and words. 

The squire looked almost fiendish, as his face glowed with 
a sudden thought and determination. He leaned toward 
the youth, speaking in a low tone, as if fearful of being 
overheard. 

“I mean,^^ he said, “that you are not my nephew 

“You lie r gasped the thunder-struck boy, with a white 
face. “Then why am I here?^^ 

“Yes,” coolly replied Squire Moulton, “I have lied. My 


26 


mmcB WEDDED. 


whole life for the last few years has been a lie. You are here 
simply because I brought you here. You are a part of my 
plan of revenge 

The old man^s face grew ghastly at this statement. 

Ah! what a double lie was on his soul! 

^‘You old schemer, this is too much! If I am not your 
nephew, who am I then?’^ 

He sprang to his feet, and stood with one clenched hand 
raised as if he would strike the evil man before him dead. 

‘^Oh, you begin to be interested, do you?^' was the taunt- 
ing reply. ^^You are ready enough to look after your own 
interests, but wonT risk anything to help another.'’^ 

^‘Who am 1? I ask you,'^ fairly hissed the boy, the per- 
spiration starting from every pour of his white, convulsed 
face. 

Will you promise 

promise nothing; but Fll choke you if you don't tell 
me quick, and he glared savagely at his uncle. 

The wicked squire looked uneasy. He sat in deep thought 
for a moment, while Kalph watched him in stern and 
breathless silence. He was about to venture a great stake, 
and if he failed it might prove the worse for him. At last 
he heaved a deep sigh, and with sudden determination in 
his voice, said: 

^"Put your ear down here, Ealph, for I would not have a 
breath of this heard. 

Ealph bent close to the old man, his white face growing 
whiter with the intense exeitement he felt. 

You are 

The rest was in a swift, hissing whisper, but the boy heard 
it, for his eyes instantly blazed with a lightning passion, 
while the rage and hate shown in every feature, and he 
shook as with an ague fit. 

‘‘Curse him! Ten thousand maledictions on him! I will 
do it!^’ he wildly exclaimed, striding up and down the room 
in a towering fury. 

“Ha, ha!^^ laughed the other. ‘T thought youM come 
to your senses, my fine fellow. Now you can work for two 
fortunes instead of one.^^ 

He laughed wickedly, and looked so evil that his cloven- 
footed master must have been proud of such an ally. 

“I donT believe it. I wonT believe it,'^ said Ealph, stop- 


THRICE WEDDED. 


27 


ping suddenly, as if in doubt. don^t see liow it can be 
possible/' 

^‘Very well/^ answered Squire Moulton, with an ugly 
sneer. ^'Sit down again and be calm, and I will tell you 
how it happens to be so. I will give you the whole history. 

Ralph Moulton (for we who are not in the secret must 
still call him so) went to the sideboard and poured out a 
glass of wine, which he instantly drained, and then resumed 
his seat. ^ ^ 

‘^Draw nearer, said the squire, ^^for snould a breath of 
this be heard it would spoil all our plans. 

Ralph obeyed, and for an hour listened with breathless 
interest to the exciting story related by his supposed uncle. 

And as they sat there, those two with their white faces 
and coal black eyes that glowed with the fierce fires of hate 
and revenge, any one would have been willing to swear, so 
fearfully alike was the expression of both, that they inher- 
ited the same evil passions, and that the same blood flowed 
in their veins. 

Did it? 

The future will show. 


CHAPTER IV. 

WILL 

Robert drove home as fast as he could make old Prince 
go, his mind all confused, while doubts and fears oppressed 
him. His father was just going in to tea when he arrived, 
and Robert followed him into the dining-room. 

Mr. Ellerton received Mrs. Dupont’s message with evident 
displeasure. 

“What does Mrs. Dupont wish to-night, he asked, “that 
is so important? Can^t she wait until some other time?^^ 
f “No, sir; she told me to come back immediately.^^ 
f “Do you know what she wants?^^ inquired his father, 
r “Yes, sir,^^ replied Robert, blushing deeply; “but I can- 
not tell you; she will do that.’^ 

Mr. Ellerton eyed him sharply, as if he mistrusted he had 
been up to some mischief. He then took his seat at the 
table, and ate his supper in silence. 


THHIGE WEDDED. 


As for Robert, be was so anxious and uneasy that he 
could scarcely swallow; but the meal was soon over, and 
they started for Mrs. Dupont^s. 

It was only a short distance, and they were soon there. 

Mrs. Dupont met them in the hall, with a grave and 
troubled face, and ushered them into the cozy sitting-room, 
where Dora lay upon a lounge, with red and swollen eyes. 
At sight of Robert, her tears started refresh, and she sobbed 
as if her heart were, broken. 

He went to her, and took her in his arms, whispering 
words of comfort in her ears, and soon had her smiling 
again. She could not be unhappy long when he was with 
her. 

Taking Mr. Ellerton^s hat, Mrs. Dupont asked him to be 
seated, and then drawing a low rocker opposite him, she be- 
gan her story. 

Mr. Ellerton listened with cold politeness until she men- 
tioned Squire Moulton^s name, when he glanced angrily at 
his son. Robert understood the look, and his own eyes "fell. 

When she had finished, he replied, half laughing at what 
he considered children's play: 

‘^Well, my dear madam, you are making yourself unhappy 
about a very slight matter. Ho ceremony like that could 
possibly be legal. In the first place, they are minors; then 
there are no witnesses, and they had no certificate.'^ 

^^Oh, but I forgot to tell about that,^^ she replied, hastily. 
‘^There it is,^^ and she handed him the paper. 

His brow clouded instantly as he read it. The affair was 
beginning to assume a more serious look than he liked. He 
saw it was made out in due form, and signed by ^^Anson 
Moulton, clerk. 

He saw through the whole plot immediately — saw that 
the man whom he knew to be his deadly enemy had in- 
tended to do him this great wrong; that he meant to strike 
a blow where it would tell. 

He turned sternly to Robert, and said: 

^‘AVell, sir, what have you to say for yourself? You have 
disobeyed me by going where I have strictly forbidden you, 
to say nothing of the fix you have got yourself into.^^ 

intended no harm, father/'' replied Robert, respect- 
fully. ^T heard of the squire^s statuary, and you know how 
fond I am of such things, so I told Dora we would ride out 
and see it.^^ 


THRICE WEDDED. 


29 


‘^What put this ridiculous idea into your heads he 
asked, shaking the certificate impatiently at him. 

^‘1 don^t know; I always thought Dora was to be my wife, 
so I thought we might as well be married to-day as any time.^^ 

^^Such talk was all very well for a couple of children; but 
you could not think I would really allow such a thing, 
either now or in the future. I had other plans for you,” 
said Mr. Ellerton, an angry flush spreading itself over his 
face. 

^‘But I did, sir,” replied Robert, firmly, though with a 
mortified air, for the implied inferiority cast upon the 
Duponts by his father^s words stung him. ^^It has been 
talked of for years,” he went on, ^^and I, for one, have 
believed it. I love Dora, and always shall love her ; and if 
we had waited ten years, and she was willing, I would have 
done the same thing.” 

^‘Bosh !” exclaimed his father, impatiently. ^^You can 
sit down again, and hold your peace. Madam” he continued, 
turning icily to Mrs. Dupont again, think we can fix 
this little affair. Even if the ceremony proves to be legal, 
we can easily have them divorced. I suppose it^s your wish 
as well as mine ?” 

^^Certainly,” replied Mrs. Dupont, in a constrained tone, 
for she was deeply hurt at Mr. Ellerton^s words and manner. 
^^But do you think the marriage is legal ?” 

don^t see how it can be, for they are under age ; but I 
assure you there will be no trouble about the matter.” 

^^Can we not see a lawyer to-night, and get his advice 
about the matter ? I should feel much relieved to have it 
settled at once.” 

don^t think it is necessary ; still, if you desire it, I will 
drive to Lawyer Leonardos office, and talk it over with 
him.” 

^^Do, if you please, for I shall not rest easy until I know 
beyond a doubt,” replied Mrs. Dupont, nervously. 

Without a word Mr. Ellerton tonk his hat and left the 
house. 

He drove directly to the office of his friend. Squire Leon- 
ard, where he remained nearly an hour, and when he came 
out the lawyer was with him, and he looked moody and 
anxious. They entered the buggy and drove back to Mrs. 
Dupont^s. 


30 THRICE WEDDED. 

Mr. Ellerton introduced the lawyer, and then sat down, 
stern and silent. 

Mr. Leonard questioned and cross-questioned the child- 
ren, making them relate over again every particular of 
their trip. 

He could find no fiaw anywhere. The irrevocable words 
were pronounced, and the ceremony was legal in every par- 
ticular except that the children were under age. The cer- 
tificate was made out without an error, and it seemed as if 
every precaution had been taken against proving the mar- 
riage null and void. 

When Mr. Leonard had finished his examination of the 
children he turned to Mr. Ellerton and Mrs. Dupont, say- 
ing : 

find there is but one course left us. That villain has 
bound them for life, unless they will agree to a separation. 
If they will say they are sorry it ever happened we can pro- 
cure a divorce^ and it is the only way now that they can be 
separated." 

^‘Of course there will be no difficulty, then," returned Mr. 
Ellerton, looking much relieved. ^^Eobert," he continued, 
turning to his son, ^^you will tell Mr. Leonard that you are 
sorry for this affair immediately." 

^‘But, father, I am not sorry, and I canT say that I am, 
unless I tell an untruth." 

^‘Heavens, boy, donT be stubborn ! DonT you see what a 
fix you are in ? Don’t you see that you are tied to that girl 
for life ?" 

^T canT see that it is a very bad fix to be in," replied 
Eobert, smiling fondly at Dora, who lay with her head upon 
his shoulder, and looking up at him with her big eyes. 

told you I loved Dora,” he went on, ‘^and that if we 
waited ten years, I should marry her. No, sir, I am glad 
instead of sorry." 

^•Your son has learned one virtue at least, Mr. Ellerton — 
that of frankness," laughed the lawyer, much amused. 

Mr. Ellerton, exasperated beyond control at being thus 
defied, left his seat, and going to his son, laid a heavy hand 
upon his shoulder, saying, in a fierce voice: 

‘‘Eobert Ellerton, I command you to say, in the presence 
of these witnesses, that you regret this marriage." 

“Father, I cannot," pleaded the boy, beseechingly. 


fHiilCE WEDDED, 


3l 


^^You mean yon will not, willful boy. But disobey me at 
your peril!” 

The lines about the boy^s mouth grew hard and firm. He 
looked his father calmly in the eye as he replied : 

^T will not, then, if that pleases you better.” 

Mr. Ellerton threatened and entreated, coaxed and 
pleaded, but all to no purpose, for his son was firm as a 
rock, and at length, in despair, he turned to his friend and 
asked what he should do. 

Squire Leonard looked amused yet perplexed, for it was 
the most novel affair he had ever had anything to do 
with. 

‘^Try the other one,” he said, pointing to Dora. 

^^Dora,” said Mr. Ellerton, trying to frighten her into 
obedience by a black look, ‘^are you not sorry that you and 
Eobert are married? Just think what a wrong thing for two 
little children to do,” 

Dora looked wistfully up at Eobert. 

^^Eobbie,” she asked, sadly, ^^shall I tell him that I am 
sorry?” 

^‘Tell them just as you feel, Brightie,” he replied, yet 
there was an anxious expression in his eye as he waited for 
her answer. 

‘^Well, then, I ainT sorry one mite,” she said, fiushing 
angrily, ^^and I think you are a real wicked man to try and 
part us, for Squire Moulton said ^what God hath joined to- 
gether let no man put to thunder.^ Was not that it, Eob- 
bie?” she asked, half doubtfully, thinking that it didnT 
sound just right. 

The lawyer shouted, while even her mother and Mr. El- 
lerton could not repress a smile at this new version of the 
Scriptural command. 

‘^Ko, ^put asunder,' darling,” replied the boy-lover, a 
glad look in his eye, while he gathered her closer in his 
arms. 

^^Come here, Dora,” said Mrs. Dupont, who had noticed 
the act, and feared it might influence her replies. 

She obeyed, though somewhat unwillingly. 

Lawyer Leonard, controlling his mirth, turned to the 
child and said: 

^^My dear little girl, donT you see how unhappy you are 
making your mother? Only see how pale and sad she looks 


THRICE WEDDED. 


n 

at what you have done. If you will only say you are sorry 
she will be happy again. 

Dora looked up in her mother’s face with a troubled ex- 
pression. 

^^Mamma/’ she asked, ^^are you unhappy?'’ 

^^Yes, dear, very,’' replied Mrs. Dupont. 

^ ‘Mamma, do you want me to tell a lie?” 

have always told you to speak the truth, my child,” 
replied her mother, somewhat evasively. 

^^No, but do you want me to tell one now?” 

Mrs. Dupont caught the child to her bosom as she whis- 
pered: 

^‘No, dear.” 

She then turned with a look of anguish to her visitors, 
and said: 

^‘It’s of no use, gentlemen; I cannot ask my child to tell 
a falsehood even for this. I have always taught her to shun 
an untruth, and I cannot be the first to bid her speak 
one.’' 

Dora threw herself into her mother’s arms again, and 
bursting into tears, said, between her sobs: 

^^Mamma, if Eobbie was sorry, I should be — because — be- 
cause if he didn’t want me for his wife I shouldn’t want to 
be.’' 

Something very like a curse burst from Mr. Ellerton’s 
lips, while the lawyer, with tears in his eyes, turned to him 
and said: 

think, my dear sir, you had better let this matter rest, 
at least for the present. It is clear that the children love 
each other. It’s an odd predicament, I know, and I must 
say I never before knew or heard of an attachment so strong 
in persons so young. It may prove to their mutual happi- 
ness hereafter, and therefore I advise you to let the subject 
drop.” 

‘‘Ko!” thundered Mr. Ellerton. ^^If the law won’t sep- 
arate them, I shall. They are a couple of stubborn fools, 
and if they won’t give in, I will send Eobert off where he 
shall never see the girl again. Once for all, what do you 
say, Eobert?” 

^^Oh, Eobbie!” sobbed Dora. 

^^Hush, darling,” whispered her mother, while she anx- 
iously waited Eobert’s reply. 

A look of anger fiashed from the boy’s fine eyes, while the 


mUlGB WEDDED. 


83 


lines about his mouth grew harder and sterner, though 
his tone was perfectly respectful as he replied : 

‘‘1 say, sir, that I am glad it was done before you had a 
chance to stop it. She is mine now and forever, and no- 
body can take her from me.^^ 

White with suppressed wrath, Mr. Ellerton walked to the 
table, took up his hat and giving Eobert his cap, pointed 
silently to the door. 

Eobert took the cap and went boldly to Dorans side. 
^^Good-night, darling, he whispered. Watch for me, 
for I shall come again soon.^^ 

He bent down and kissed her flushed cheek, and bowing 
to the others, followed his father from the room. 


CHAPTEE V. 

THE PAETUsTG. 

Mr. Ellerton and his son entered their carriage in silence; 
the one in stern and gloomy displeasure, the other with a 
look of firm resolve still upon his face, though his heart 
throbbed and glowed with exultation, that Dora had re- 
mained steadfast as he himself. 

Mr. Ellerton drove furiously homeward, giving free vent 
to his feelings by smartly applying the lash to poor startled 
old Princess back, which had never been beaten so before. 

' At the door he gave the horse to a servant, and telling 
Eobert to go directly to the library, he took off his light 
summer overcoat and hat, hung them upon the rack in the 
hall, and then followed him. 

He locked the door after him, and going the table, lit an 
astral lamp and seated himself in silence, motioning Eobert 
to do the same. 

After a few moments spent in deep thought, he 
turned his eyes upon his son and said, in a hard, cold 
voice: 

^‘Well, sir, how much longer do you intend to carry on 
this farce 

^‘What farce?’^ asked Robert, innocently. 

^^What farce, you fool? why, this ridiculous obstinacy 
about this more ridiculous marriage.'’^ 


34 


THRICE WEDDEb, 


is no farce^ father/^ firmly replied his son. 

‘^Have done with such talk, or by Heaven, I'll flog yott. 

I tell you this thing is going to he made nuU and void, and 
if you won't obey me willingly, I will force you to obed- 
ience. Hot one penny of my money shall you have, to begin 
with; I will give it to some one who is willing to give heed to 
my wishes. And I think I know of one who would be very 
glad to get it.^^ 

This latter sentence was muttered partly aloud and partly 
to himself, while a bitter sneer curled his lips. 

will shut you up,^^ he continued, ^‘'and you shall live 
upon bread and water until you consent, or if that does not 
bring you to your senses, I will send you to the remotest 
lands of the earth, where, with barely enough to live upon, 
you will soon be glad to come to terms. The idea of you 
really thinking that you love this low, ill-bred girl, or even 
the thought of marrying her in the future, is perfectly ab- 
surd. Why, boy, she is almost a beggar, while you will be 
worth your hundreds of thousands. My son mating with 
such as she! I tell you I wonT have it. Better had you 
died when you were so ill, than that Dr. Dupont should 
have saved your life, to waste it on his girl. Choose, sir, 
and choose thoughtfully and carefully, for I swear Til move 
heaven and earth before this thing shall go on. You know 
what the girl said; if you would repent she would also.^^ 

‘T will ask you the same question, father, that Dora asked 
her mother: Do you wish me to utter a falsehood? You 
have been as strict with me about the truth as any one.^^ 
“This talk is all cant, Eobert,'’^ replied his father, angri- 
ly. “You know as well as I that you will regret it in the 
future. It^s only your thundering will. Just think how 
ashamed you will be to introduce her into your own circle 
by and by; as commonly brought up as she has been, and 
such a frightful little squab, with red hair, too.'’^ 

Eobert^s eyes blazed now with a dangerous sparkle. 

“I am not at all afraid, sir, that I shall ever have cause 
to be ashamed of my wife. Her mother is more of a lady 
now than you are a gentleman, with the insinuation that 
you cast at her to-night. 

Mr. Ellerton winced. He had repented what he had said 
as soon as the words were uttered; but it enraged him be- 
yond measure to be reproved by his son, and he shouted: 
“Silence, you young rascal! If you ever call that girl 


THBIGE WEDDED. 


35 


wife again in my presence, I swear Fll thrash you. I ask 
you again, will you give up this girl?^' 

^‘No, sir/^ 

^^You will not?^^ 
will not/^ 

They sat gazing into each others eyes for several min- 
utes; those two, so firm and unyielding, until Mr. Ellerton, 
unable longer to endure his song’s steadfast look, turned 
angrily away, and, in a voice hoarse with wrath, said: 

^^Go to your room, you ungrateful boy, and remain there 
until I decide your fate.^^ 

^^Eobert picked up his cap, which had fallen to the fioor, 
and moved to the door. He opened it, and turning back, 
said, respectfully: 

^^Good-night, father. 

There was no reply, and he passed out, up the broad and 
handsome stairway, into his own room; where he sat in deep 
and earnest thought for several hours. At length, feeling 
tired and worn, he retired, and slept soundly until morning. 

Poor Mr. Ellerton, down stairs, paced the room all night 
long. He was angry, but he was more, he was crushed. 

It was, indeed, as Squire Moulton meant it should be, a 
heavy blow, not only to his pride, but to all his hopes and 
plans for his boy in the future. He intended to educate 
his boy in the most thorough manner, giving him every ad- 
vantage and privilege that money could procure, and he had 
hoped to see him contract a brilliant marriage in the future. 
Those plans were now crushed in a single day — were blighted, 
never to revive again, and — ^^by a nobody, he said, bitterly, 
to himself ; and he cursed his foe with the deadliest curses. 
He felt that he had never wronged the man otherwise than 
by marrying the girl he had loved. But he knew that, be- 
sides this, there was another reason, which, though he him- 
self was not to blame for it, the squire might see fit to re- 
venge upon him. It was a secret between them, and they 
had never breathed it to mortal ears. 

He determined to keep Kobert a close prisoner for awhile, 
until he had the best advice in the state about the matter, 
and if that did not bend his will, he would send him abroad 
to be educated, and perhaps, with time and absence, he 
would get over his infatuation. 

When morning broke Eobert arose and dressed himself, 
but on attempting to leave the room, he found the door was 


36 


THRICE WEBBED. 


locked on the outside. The hot and angry blood mounted 
to his brow, and he stood several minutes with his hands 
grasping the silver knob, as if he would wrench it open, de- 
spite the strong lock that held it fast. 

Finally, thinking better of it, he turned away, and, tak- 
ing up a book, commenced reading. 

An hour elapsed, when the key turned, and a man entered, 
bearing a silver tray upon which was arranged a steaming 
and tempting breakfast. He sat it down, and, without a 
word, left the room, Eobert disdaining to question a servant. 

He remained thus alone for nearly a week, his meals be- 
ing brought regularly to him, only each day they grew^ less 
and less palatable, until at last he received only a glass of 
water to wash down his cold, dry bread. 

The confinement began to grow tedious; his father or 
any member of the family had not been near him, and he 
began to feel uneasy about Dora, for he had promised to 
come and see her, and he knew she was watching for him. 
While thinking thus the lock clicked and his father entered, 
still wearing the same stern and forbidding countenance as 
when he last saw him. 

^‘Well, Eobert, he said, coldly, ‘^are you ready to yield 
to my wishes 

^^If your wishes remain the same as when I last saw you, 
I am not.^^ 

‘^Will nothing move you, my son?’^ pleaded his father, a 
look almost of despair on his fine face. 

His voice softened, and tears stood in his eyes. 

“Father, did you love my mother.^'^ asked Eobert, soften- 
ing for a moment. 

“As my life, my boy,^' and his lip quivered. 

“Even so I love Dora, and 1 cannot give her up.^^ 

“That is all gammon, Eobert, replied his father, again 
becoming excited. “If you were older, I might think there 
was something in it; but you two; such a couple of babies 
— bah! I say you shall give her up.^^ 

Eobert turned moodily to the window. 

“AVill you, boy?^^ 

“Ho, sir.'^^ 

“Very well,^^ icily responded Mr. Ellerton. “Prepare 
yourself to start for Germany to-morrow morning. Major 
Atherton will take charge of you, and place you in an in- 


THRICE WEDDED. 37 

stitution, where I hope rigid discipline and a thorough 
education will bring you to your senses/^ 

Saying which he hastily left the room, again locking the 
door after him. 

Kobert caught his breath quickly. 

Could he go so far away from Dora? He asked himself 
the question over and over again. His brain seemed on fire 
at the thought, and for a long time he rebelled at the idea. 

Finally, when he could think calmly about it, he reasoned 
that he must have an education, that he wanted one, and 
that Dora must be educated too, and he desired that she 
might become a polished and elegant young lady, so that 
when he graduated and came to claim her, his father could 
not help being reconciled to their marriage, and willing to 
acknowledge her as his daughter. 

Yes, indeed, he thought, on the whole it was better so. 
Better even to be separated; then each would study the 
hardest to please the other, and he resolved to calmly obey 
the decree, go his long journey peaceably, and make the 
most of every advantage. 

But he must see Dora first; and howto manage it? Here 
the anxious look came back to his eyes. 

He was a prisoner, securely locked within his room, but 
he must get out some way, he must and would see his 
Brightie once more before he commenced the long and weary 
discipline in store for him. 

A light and fancy trellis was underneath his window, so 
near that he could easily step out upon it. But would it 
bear his weight? 

He went to the window and looked out, and his face 
lighted up with a triumphant smile, for he saw it was per- 
fectly safe, and the way was now opened for him to go and 
bid his little wife a last ‘ ^good-by. 

He spent the rest of the day in gathering up his treasures, 
and preparing for his journey. 

It seemed a long time after the servant brought him his 
tea, (and a dainty supper it was too, this last one which he 
was to eat beneath his father^s roof for years) until dark. 

But at length night drew her sable robe around the earth, 
and all was hushed and quiet. Kobert satisfied himself that 
no one was around the house, and then lightly descended 
the trellis, and made his way swiftly toward the little white 
cottage, which contained the treasure of bis heart. 


38 


THRICE WEDDED. 


As he approached, he saw a little white face pressed close 
against the window-pane, and he knew that Dora was watch- 
ing for him; and his heart ached for her, for he felt that 
thus she had been watching every day since he left her, 
nearly a week ago. 

He sprang lightly up the step, just as the door opened, 

^ and his child-bride threw herself sobbing into his arms. 

^^There, Dora, darling, do not cry. I could not come be ' 
fore,^^ he said, while his own lip quivered. 

^^Oh, Robbie, I thought you never would come again, 
and I have watched every day till it got so dark that my 
eyes ached. 

" She hugged him tight, and sobbed afresh from joy at see- 
ing him. 

^‘'Is your mother at home, Brightie?^^ he asked, when she 
grew quiet again. 

^^No; she went out to see a sick lady, and oh, Robbie, I 
was so lonely, I thought my heart would break. 

^‘Weil, then, let us go into the house, for I have some- 
thing to tell you.^^ 

He put his arms around her and drew her in. He sat 
down and took her in his lap, clasping her close in his 
arms, while a great lump rose in his throat and almost 
choked him as he thought it was the last time. 

^'Robbie, she asked, softly patting his face with her lit- 
tle hand, ^^you aren^t sorry yet, are you?^^ 

^^JSTo, darling, nor ever shall be. Why?^^ 

^'Why, I thought you must be, or you would have come 
before. 

^‘I could not, Dora. I have been locked in my room ever 
since that night, and I climbed down the trellis to come to 
you to-night. I ran away!’^ 

He flushed with shame that he was obliged to say it. 

"'You have, you did?^^ said Dora, with flashing eyes. I 
• don^t care, I think your father is a wicked, naughty man, 
and I hope God will punish him.''^ 

"Hush, darling, for I have something worse than that to 
tell you.^^ 

And he told her all that had passed between him and his 
father, only keeping back what he had said of her, and that 
he was to start for a far-off country on the morrow. 

Again the flood-gates were opened, and torrents poured 
from the riven hm% She clung to him with a death-like 


mmcE Wedded. 


39 


grip, crying out, in her agony, ^^that she would not let him 
go — that they would make him love some one else, and she 
should never see him again, and she should be, oh! so lonely 
that she should surely die!’' 

The poor boy hardly knew how to comfort her, and really 
did not know but she would die, while his own heart ached 
almost to bursting at the sad parting. 

^^No, Dora, dear,” at length he gravely replied, ‘^you will 
not die. You will have your mother to love you, and I 
shall never forget you while I live. Now, listen to me, and 
promise to do as I ask you. I want you to mind your 
mother in everything, for she knows best what is right; I 
want you to study hard, and learn all you can; and do not 
be naughty any more about practicing your music; for I am 
going to get the best education I can, and I shall come 
back for you some day, and I want to feel proud of my lit- 
tle wife. Yes, Dora, I want you to be as nice a young lady 
then as Miss Annie Burton is now. Will you promise to 
try?” 

Dora caught her breath at this request. 

^‘Oh, Bobbie, Dm afraid I canT; but Fll try. I promise 
anything that you want me to, but I can't bear to have you 
go. I shall never be happy again as long as I live.” 

‘^Yes, you will, darling; you must try to be happy. And 
row I want you to say that you love me, and wonT ever for- 
get me, and then I must go.” 

^'Of course I will not forget you, and you know I love 
you,” she said, raising her tear-stained face from his shoul- 
der. 

His arms closed tightly round her as he said: 

‘^Look at me, Brightie — right into my eyes! There now 
— how much do you love me?” 

She looked at him, half-puzzled, a moment, before an- 
swering, then said: 

donT believe I can tell you, Bobbie; I guess as well as 
— as if you were really my brother.'^ 

His arms clasped her more tightly yet, and while a disap- 
pointed look came into his eyes, he whispered: 

^‘Brightie, think — donT you love me any better than 
that? Would you rather always be my sister than my 
wife?” 

His heart beat quick and hard; his eyes burned with 


m 


mmOE WEDDED. 


a deep and abiding passion, while they eagerly sought for 
some answering sign in the fair face upraised to his. 

The blue orbs that heretofore had looked so clearly and 
fearlessly into his own took on a look of startled surprise, 
then they softened with a consciousness of some deeper 
emotion, and began to droop until they were hidden be- 
neath the white lids, with their long silken fringes, while 
the rich crimson tide swept OTer cheek, neck and brow, with 
the sudden unvailing of her heart. 

Instantly her face was buried in his bosom, and her little 
frame quivered in every nerve with the strange and exciting 
emotions. 

Eoberf s face lighted with instant happiness. The vary- 
ing expression of that innocent face was all the answer he 
needed, and he did not press her for a reply, but held her 
in a close and silent embrace for a few moments. 

At length, he said, tenderly: 

^^Look up, Brightie, for I must go, or I shall be missed. 
You must say good-by, now. I know that you will not for- 
get me; and, see here, darling! I have brought you some- 
thing to look at when I am gone.^^ 

He took from his pocket a little box and handed it to 
her. 

She opened it eagerly, and a cry of pleased surprise broke 
from her lips, as her eyes caught the glimpse of a beautiful 
gold locket and chain, 

^Tt is a locket that belonged to my mother, Brightie; her 
picture is on one side, and mine is on the other. I have 
brought it for you, and you must never part with it, but 
wear it for my sake. See.^^ 

He touched the spring and it flew open, revealing a life- 
like picture of himself, and opposite, that of a young and 
lovely woman. 

^^Oh, Eobbie, how like you it is! And this is your mother! 

I love her, she is so beautiful. Ho, I never will part with it, 
and I am so glad I have got it!^' 

He smiled fondly as he fastened it about her neck. 

^T have a picture of you, you know. But my little 
Brightie must be brave now, and say ^good-by,^ for it is time 
I was at home. Kiss me, darling.^^ 

The red blood again mounted to her brow as his lips thrilled 
a lingering kiss upon hers. Then, forgetting everything 
except that he was going where she could not see him, she 


THRICE WEDDED. 41 

threw her arms around his neck, and sobs she could not re- 
strain again racked her frame. 

One long, long, close embrace, and he put her down and 
sprang from the room, out into the darkness of the night, 
wiping from his own cheek the fast-falling tears. 

Dora flung herself full length upon the floor, in an utter 
abandonment of grief, and there her mother found her, an 
hour after, sound asleep, with the bright crystals still on her 
brown lashes. 

Eobert retraced his steps, and reached his room undiscov- 
ered, and though he was grieved and sad to part with Dora, 
yet he hugged to his heart with joy the knowledge that she 
was really and truly his very own, and that her love for him 
was all he could ask. 

The next morning he started on his long journey, his 
father accompanying him as far as New York, from which 
place he was to sail. 

Eobert wept at parting with his only parent, and felt al- 
most desolate to thus sunder every tie and go a stranger to 
a strange land. He had always loved and respected his 
father in spite of his cold, stern manner; still he would not 
beg to be allowed to remain at home, for he was fully deter- 
mined to improve every advantage of travel and study, and 
thus flt himself to be a useful and happy man. 

So when Mr. Ellerton coldly shook his hand at parting, 
he could not realize the agony that whitened his boy^’s 
proud face, and hardened his already stern voice; nor could 
he know how that pent-up anguish burst forth as the vessel 
bore him from his father^s lingering eyes, from which the 
tears rolled fast and unheeded, as he turned with aching 
heart to go back to his lonely home. 


CHAPTER VI. 

AM NO BEGGAR.^^ 

Squire Moulton was walking on the white pebbly margin 
of his beautiful miniature lake. 

His head was bowed upon his narrow and sunken chest, 
his hands were clasped with rigid firmness at his back, while 
his long grizzly hair hung in neglected masses around his 
stooping shoulders. 

His face, always ugly, looked yellower and uglier still as 


42 


THRI CE WEDDED. 


the dim light of a cloudy day — rendered yet more dismal by 
the thick branches of the overhanging trees — fell around 
him. 

He looked like some restless evil spirit haunting that lovely 
spot^ and lying in wait for his unsuspecting prey, rather 
than the master and the owner of so much beauty. 

He was pacing back and forth in deep and evidently un- 
pleasant meditation, judging of his lowering brow and the 
inutterings constantly issuing from his thin lips. ^ 

He doubtless considered himself entirely alone. But he 
could not see the pair of eyes, bright and black, and evil as 
his own, that glared fiercely upon him from within a closely 
growing circle of arbor vitaB. 

For an hour his restless pacings and mutterings had con- 
tinued, and for an hour these fierce eyes had blazed upon 
him, at first with anger and hatred, then as time went on, 
with uneasiness. Evidently whoever was within that ver- 
dant circle was becoming impatient with the proprietors 
lengthened promenade; for there was a slight rustle as if 
some one was trying to change his or her position. 

Unlucky moment! 

For losing its balance, a figure came crushing against the 
branches with a force that could not fail to disturb and 
attract the attention of the master of Moulton Hall. 

With a start of surprise, and a quick glance of his fiery 
eyes toward the place, he called out rudely: 

^‘Who^s there? and what do you want?^^ 

There was no reply, only a further crouching among the 
foliage. 

With hasty steps the squire reached the arbor, parted the 
branches at the entrance, and gazed within. 

A woman in soiled and ragged garments slowly turned her 
face, scornful and defiant, full upon him! 

For a moment she gazed thus upon him, then silently 
arose. 

She must have been beautiful once; but her cheeks were 
hollow and livid, the large and brilliant black eyes sunken 
in their sockets. The mouth was distorted with the play of 
evil passion and suffering; while her long raven hair, 
streaked with silver, hung in tangled masses from beneath 
her soiled and misshapen hat. 

‘‘What do you want here?^^ again demanded the squire, 
do not allow beggars about my premises . // ' 


THRICE WEDDEA 


43 


am no beggar/^ she replied, lifting her head with a 
sudden, haughty grace, and her voice possessed a certain 
musical cadence, despite its sharpness. 

What was there in her movement and tone that made the 
proud squire start and gaze so fixedly at her, while a white 
fear settled over his face? 

‘‘Who are you then?’^ he asked, quickly. 

“Ha, haT laughed the women. “Your memory does not 
serve you quite as well as mine does me, most worthy squire. 

I presume my acquaintance would not be considered much 
of an honor. Nevertheless you and I are old friends 

“Have done with your croaking, and tell me what you 
want here,^^ interrupted Squire Moulton, impatiently, yet 
with a touch of uneasiness in his voice. 

“What do I want? I will tell you soon enough what I 
wishP she replied, hashing her eyes angrily at him. “You 
had a sister once?'’^ 

“Yes, to my sorrow. What of her?^^ 

“Where is she now?^^ asked his visitor, with a sinister 
smile. 

“Dead, and gone to perdition, for all I know or care,^^ re- 
turned he, brutally. 

“Dead, is she,’^ repeated the woman, with the same look. 

“Yes, dead, I say! Confound yon, what do you mean 
by all this quizzing, you fool?^^ 

The squire was becoming enraged, and could not calmly 
bear the steadfast, penetrating gaze of the persistent woman 
before him. 

“How do you know she is dead?’^ was the quiet question. 

“How do I know, you vile hag? She died at Naples, 
thirteen years ago. I was with her only a few hours before 
her death. The next time I went to see her they told me 
she was dead and buried.'^ 

“Ah! but what became of the child she left for you to 
take charge of ?^^ 

She bent forward and gazed eagerly into his face, as if she 
would read his very soul. 

“Curse you, it’s none of your business! Fm sure I don’t 
know why I stand here parleying with such as you.^^ 

A bright flush spread itself over the woman^s pale face at 
this taunt, while her lips quivered with suppressed rage. 

“Stop!^^ she said, sternly, as he turned to go. “ Stop, 
you fiend in human form, and give an account of yourself. 


44 


THRICE WEDDED, 


It is my business, and I will know. It is true your sister 
was sick and destitute in the city of Naples. It is also 
true that when she heard of your arrival there she sent to 
you for assistance. She felt there was no help on earth for 
her, and she wanted to be reconciled to the only living 
member of her family before she went the way of all the 
earth. She also needed food and medicines, but most of 
all she wanted to give you her child, her bright and beau- 
teous boy, to educate and rear, sa that he might never feel 
the curse and sting of poverty and shame. You obeyed the 
summons. But how did you comfort her? You swore at 
her; you taunted and reviled her; you cursed her with the 
bitterest curses your vile heart could invent, and your lips 
utter; and when she prayed for a little love and forgiveness, 
you turned a deaf ear to her entreaties. Ah! cannot you 
hear her now pleading for her boy, that you would not leave 
him to the cold mercies of strangers? Cannot you see her 
now as she quivered in her anguish when you swore that you 
would not be disgraced by such as he? Are your dreams 
never haunted by that white, drawn face, by a wasted hand 
clutching yours, and a trembling voice begging, pleading 
for her one earthly treasure? Does not a phantom hover 
around your couch at night? I think there does. You look 
as if your whole life had been passed amid ghostly shadows. 

^‘But to my story. A week after you left your only sister 
to suffer and die alone — a stranger in a strange land — you 
sought her again; your hard heart relented a little. Tardy 
repentance! They told you she was dead and buried. With 
a curse, and not even inquiring where her body was laid, you 
asked for her boy and took him away with you. That, 
Kalph Moulton, was the only good deed you ever did in your 
life. But has it continued to be a good deed? How Iiave 
you kept your trust? Is it well, or would it have been better 
that he had died also, than that you should have taken him 
to rear in a poisoned atmosphere? I ask you, Ealph Moulton, 
where is that boy — where is he whom you have named for 
yourself, but who was christened Ealph Ellerton?^^ 

The wicked man stood gazing at her, as if an avenging 
angel had smitten him, while she related these incidents of 
his past life. A look of blank amazement and fear covered 
his face; his knees knocked together, and when he tried to 
speak his ashen lips refused to move. 

At length he manap^ed to articulate: 


WBDMD. 


i5 


^^Who are you^ that you know all this?^^ 

^^Who am I she cried, bitterly. Look and see who I 
am. Does not your heart speak for itself? Is there not one 
spark of kindred affection left in its hardened depths? Who 
am I indeed? I am Kose Moulton; she who loved, trusted, 
and was betrayed; who thought she was an honored and 
cherished wife, whom Heaven had blessed with its own and 
earth’s richest blessings, but who soon awoke to the misery 
and knowledge that she was no wife — only a disgraced and 
ruined woman, whose only child and treasure had no right 
to claim his father’s name. An outcast, deserted and dis- 
honored! Who am I? I am your disgraced and erring 
sister, whom you cast off when she and every one else 
thought she was dying. I did not die. I began to gain 
from the moment you left me. ” 

is a lie!” shrieked the wretched old man, as, with eyes 
starting from their sockets, he staggered back against the 
green wall behind him. 

‘^It is no lie; and you know every word I speak is true. 
I have followed you — I have been on your track ever since; 
and now I have come to claim my son, and be recognized as 
a member of your family. I knew if you thought me dead 
and out of the way, you would take my boy. So I went 
and hid myself, making those who took care of me promise 
to say I was dead. I followed you from abroad. I have 
watched you ever since, but have never spoken to my boy 
since I pressed that last fond kiss upon his pure lips, when 
I left him quietly sleeping in his childish innocence. I 
have just recovered from a long and weary illness. I am 
alone, forsaken, destitute; and, my brother, I have come to 
you for comfort and support. Oh! Ealph, will you not take 
your Eose once again to your heart, forgive her, and bless 
her with your love?” 

She stopped and looked beseechingly in his face, while 
her wild e3"es softened and tears poured down her sunken 
cheeks. Her hands were clasped, and in almost breathless 
silence, she awaited his reply. 


46 


mniCE WEDDED. 


CHAPTER VIL 

TOILED* 

While the unhappy woman was pleading so earnestly for 
recognition, and a welcome/ the heartless squire had in a 
measure recovered from his fright at thus being confronted 
by one whom he had long supposed dead, and who now 
threatened to overthrow all his careful plottings; and he ex- 
claimed in a voice of scornful wrath: 

^^You are not Rose Moulton; you cannot prove it. You 
are only some vile imposter who has picked up small bits of 
gossip, and, cleverly putting them together, has come to 
frighten me with the story, doubtless expecting to be bought 
off. Go! I will have nothing to do with you."^ 

^^Your heart is harder than adamant, but, thank Heaven, 
it is in my power to prove my identity. Look!’^ 

She raised her long, bony hand, and held it out to him. 

On the palm lay a large and heavy brooch. She touched 
a spring, and a lid flew open, revealing the face of a very 
handsome man. 

Squire Moulton started, and a look of hatred flashed over 
his countenance; for the face that looked out upon him was 
like the face of his deadly foe, only with a younger and 
fresher expression. 

^‘Lookr^ she said again, and touched another spring. 

The face of the man disappeared, and in its place that of 
a young and exquisitely beautiful girl appeared. 

The dark and star-like eyes had a wistful look in their 
depths; the ripe, full lips a tempting curve, and masses of 
raven hair fell upon her neck and shoulders, spotless and 
fair as polished marble. 

The evil man smote his brow with his hand, and caught 
his breath convulsively at sight of this radiant creature. 

‘^Rose,^^ burst from his pale lips. 

Again she repeated that one word: 

^'LookP 

Another spring yielded to her touch, and a dimpled, rosy- 
cheeked cherub, with black eyes and hair, smiled joyously 
up at him. 


THRICE WEDDED. 


47 


With an oath he sprang to seize the strange jewel from 
her; but quickly shutting the several lids^ she hid it in her 
bosom. 

‘^Oh, Heaven he exclaimed, ^^you are, you must be 
Eose!"^ 

^‘You acknowledge me, then, at last!^^ she cried, with a 
wave of hope in her voice. ^^Oh, bless you for Ealph^s 
sake. Do not harden your heart again, for my life has been 
a desolate waste. My name was a misnomer, for nothing 
but thorns and briers have grown along my life-path. Say, 
my brother, speak, and tell me that I have not come to 
plead in vain — that you will give me back my place in your 
heart and home, and, I promise you, no servant ever was 
more faithful and devoted than I will prove, if you will but 
lift me out of the depths of my present woe.^^ 

Vain, useless pleading! Hearts of stone do not yield to 
a woman^s tears. 

With a bitter oath he spurned her from him. 

^^No, you shameless wretch 1^^ he exclaimed. ^^Get you 
gone from my sight, for I swear, by all that^s sacred, that 
you shall never cross my threshcld. My house shall burn 
to ashes before it shall be polluted by your vile presence!’^ 

She bent her head upon her hands in silent anguish for a 
moment. Her heart was crushed anew within her as its re- 
turning affection was thus outraged. All hope died within 
her bosom. An outcast she had been for many long and 
weary years, and an outcast she must remain. 

The squire smiled grimly. It pleased him well to see her 
writhing in her agony at his feet, for he deemed the con- 
quest now would be an easy one. 

But can a mother forget her young? 

Never! 

Where is my boy?^’ at length she demanded, hoarsely. 
^‘How have you brought him up? Is he as evil and cruel 
as yourself? or have you kept that one trust sacred? Tell 
meP^ 

^^Eose Moulton — for I am convinced that you are indeed 
she whom I once called sister, for no other could have had 
that brooch — for this once, and only this once, will I con- 
descend to answer your question, then you must tramp. I 
never will recognize you. You chose your own path in life, 
and now you may reap the fruits of it. After I left you that 
night, as I thought, to die, I resolved never to think of you 


48 


THEICE WEDDED. 


again; you might die and rot, you and yours, before I would 
lift a finger to save you. 

did not leave the city, for it was my pleasure to stay. 

I was plotting vengeance against one whom I had followed 
for years. A week went by, when all at once it flashed upon 
me, that if I had your boy, I could use him to carry out my 
plans; so I resolved to go back and get the young one 

"'Oh, Heaven! pity — spare mer"" groaned the stricken 
mother, sinking back among the bushes, and burying her 
face ill her emaciated hands. 

"Yes,^^ pursued the villain, "‘I knew if rightly trained, 
he would be just the one for my purpose. You know all 
about that silly story of my youth; how Ellerton stole my 
bride. And that was not all, either, that I had against that 
family. Your own seared heart, and blighted life, will bear 
me witness to that. 

"‘Well, Ellerton was in Naples. I had followed him there. 
His wife was dead, but he, poor love-sick youth, could not 
get over it, and so went abroad to take his mind from his 
grief. His son and nurse were with him. He left them at 
Naples while he went traveling for a few months. 

"His boy was not very well — was pale and puny, but after 
his father^s departure he began to pick up, and grew won- 
derfully, until I was struck with his strong resemblance to 
Kalph, who you know was always small for his age. There 
was two years difference in their ages, but you would never 
have known it, and a stranger would have sworn they were 
twins. Satan must have put the idea into my head, for I 
resolved to change the children. I resolved to have my 
darling’s child to myself, and let him have yours to bring 
up and educate.^^ 

"Kalph Moulton, curse you— curse you T’ shrieked the poor 
creature, rocking to and fro in her agony. 

"Hold, I have not finished yet. You wanted to know 
how your boy had been brought up, and I am telling you. 
I felt assured that if I could effect the change without the 
nurse^s knowledge, tlie father would never be the wiser, for 
they were so near alike. 

"For weeks and weeks I watched, but it was of no use; 
the nurse was always with him, never leaving him for a mo- 
ment. But one day fortune favored me. They were out in 
a grove behind their villa, and the boy begged for a drink 


THRICE WEDDED. 


49 


of water. The nurse tried to make him go in to get it^ but 
he was obstinate and refused. 

“At length she consented to go, but told him not to move 
from the place while she was gone. I almost shouted for 
joy, for I felt my hour of triumph had come. I stepped 
from my place of concealment, taking Ealph with me, and 
seated him beside the other one. It was a picture I shall 
never forget. The two children, as near alike as two peas, sat 
looking at each other for a moment in silent astonishment. 
But I could not stop to look long, and lifting the one I was 
after in my arms I turned to flee, when a heavy blow felled 
me. 

^^The nurse had gone like a flash for the water, and was 
back in an instant ; she had seen me take the child from the 
seat where she had left him, and comprehended the whole 
thing. She struck me on the head with the tumbler, and 
seizing the child, sped away into the villa. Cursing my ill- 
luck, I took Ealph and made off. The next I heard of 
them was that Mr. Ellorton had been sent for; the nurse 
had had an apoplectic fit and was dying — people said she 
had received a fright the day before; what it was no one 
could learn, for she would not speak of it until her master 
came. When he arrived it was too late, and she died trying 
to tell him something. 

^‘What that something was I know, and you can guess; so 
my secret was safe, and I thought I might have another op- 
portunity to effect the change. But he suddenly left the 
city, taking the boy with him, and for several years I lost 
sight of them. 

^‘We finally met in this place, but the boys had not re- 
tained their resemblance to each other; besides, they were 
too old, so I had to give up the idea. I have sought in vain 
for other ways to wreak my vengeance, but never had ani 
opportunity until a little while ago, when I played him af 
fine trick. But that^s not here nor there. 

“I have recently taken Ealph into my confidence, only I 
have changed the story to suit my purposes. I have told 
him that it was Ellerton whom you sent for when you were 
dying — that you were his mistress before he married, and 
you sent for him, begging he would take your boy and edu- 
cate him. He refused to do so, scorning alike him and you. I 
have also forged papers proving that you were legally married, 
and that he is in reality the rightful son and heir. He be- 


50 


THRICE WEDDED. 


lieves every word I have told him, and being brought np, 
you know, under right influences, he enters heartily into 
rny plans for vengeance/' 

Nothing could have been more fiendish than the expres- 
sion with which Squire Moulton concluded these dark revel- 
ations. 

^‘Heaven pity me that I was ever born, or that I ever 
gave birth to a child for you to bring up to such wick- 
edness and woe,^' groaned the poor woman, in a voice of de- 
spair. 

Then suddenly springing to her feet, she shrieked: 

^Tt shall not be, you villain! I will thwart your fell de- 
signs; I will go to my boy and reveal the whole plot — tell 
him what a foul lie you have told him, and that you are but 
making a tool of him. I will reveal myself to him and ex- 
pose your villainy. You shall not ruin my boyP 

^‘ You will reveal yourself to your son, will you?^^ sneered 
the other. ^^What a revelation that will be! Do you think 
he will believe that you are his mother? You look like the 
mother of the boy who is to inherit a million! He would 
be proud of you, no doubt 

She fiushed deeply at his cruel insinuations, but replied, 
sadly: 

^Tf there is one particle of filial affection in his heart 
he will show it^ and believe me when I show him this.^^ 

She held up the brooch before him. 

He had forgotten she had it, but he now knew that she 
could prove her story with it, and he resolved to gain pos- 
session of it by fair means or foul. 

^^You said you were destitute," he said, trying to assume 
a more friendly air; ^^whatwill you sell me that bauble for? 
I will give you a good price for it.^' 

thank you, sir.^^ she replied, with biting scorn. ^^But 
I do not choose to part with such valuable evidence in my 
behalf. ^ No, sir! this will prove my story, and I will use it. 
Such wickedness as you meditate shall not go on.^^ 

^‘You talk well of wickedness; pray, how long since you 
became such a saint? But enough of this," he added, 
sternly. ^TIow do you suppose Ralph would receive your 
story? Do you think he would love a woman who had 
brought him into the world to suffer shame and disgrace? 
Do you think he would feel tenderly toward a mother who 
confesses she deserted him in infancy, and led a dissolute. 


51 


THKIGE WEDDEi). 

al)andoned life ever since? And, moreover, would lie thank 
you for revealing to him the fact that he had no name? 
Madam, take warning; you don^t know your son as well as 
I do/^ 

^^Ohr wept the desolate creature, realizing the truth of 
all he said. ‘^But you lied to him about his parentage, 
and — 

"‘What of that? Ought not his name to be Ealph Eller- 
ton ?'' 

“Yes, oh, yes; but 

“Well, then let him claim it, and get the fortune if he 
can. The papers I have will prove all I want, in spite of 
all Ellerton can do. Til make a^^bargain with you. If you^ll 
help the matter along, when it is all settled, I will acknowl- 
edge vou as a relative, perhaps a cousin or something of the 
kind.^^ 

“Never! You do but insult me the more by such an 
offer ! I tell you it shall never be. If I cannot see Ralph, 
I can at least go to Mr. Ellerton and warn him, so that his 
son may be saved from such suffering and disgrace. I have 
sinned in the past, but I trust I have repented, and am wil- 
ling to do what is right now, even to the sacrificing of my 
own son! Let me pass.'^ 

She tried to leave the arbor, but he barred the way, stand- 
ing firm within the entrance. 

“No,^^ he said, “you do not go until you give me those 
pictures, and a promise not to meddle with my affairs.^^ 

Her heart quailed, for there was a wicked look in his eye 
that was fearful. But she put on the semblance of bold- 
ness. 

“Let me pass.^' 

She drew herself to her full height, raised her head 
•haughtily, sweeping back with one hand the heavy masses 
of her hair, while she flashed her brilliant eyes witheringly 
upon him. 

She must have been glorious in her youthful days, for 
there was majesty even now in her look and mien, despite 
the soiled and tattered clothing. 

“Never he growled between his teeth. 

Swifter than a flash she darted toward him, seized him 
around one knee, and he fell to the ground, crashing and 
struggling among the thick branches of the arbor vitae. 


52 THBICE WEDDEl). 

Another instant, and she had vanished from his sight like 
a ghost. 

Curses loud and deep hurst in a torrent from Squire Moul- 
ton^s foaming lips, as, painfully arising, he made his way 
from the place. 

Scarcely had he stepped outside the circle, when a sight 
met his eyes which caused him to totter back, half-fainting 
and gasping for breath. 

CHAPTER VIIL 

^^LOOK TO IT.^^ 

Half crouching, half lying among the tall grass just out- 
side the circle of arbor vitae, was a large, swarthy-looking 
man, his eyes and mouth agape with astonishment at the 
wondrous story he had just heard rehearsed. 

A close observer might have noticed his paleness and agi- 
tation. Evidently something in the tale had moved him 
deeply, for great beads of perspiration stood on his forehead, 
from which his cap was pushed back, and the hand he raised 
to wipe his brow shook like a reed. 

He might have been a fine looking man, for his face was 
highly intelligent in expression, and his form was tall, 
straight, and well developed. But clad in his soiled and 
much-worn garments, with face deeply bronzed, locks un- 
combed, and beard unshaven, he was but a sorry-looking 
object. There was a roughness about him, too, and a fierce- 
ness in the gaze of his eye as he looked upon the terror- 
stricken squire, which were enough in themselves, coming 
as he did unexpectedly upon him, to drive the color from 
his face and lips. 

The stranger was the first to recover his self-possession, 
and assuming a sneering, half defiant air, while at the same 
time he seemed to enjoy Squire Moulton'^s fright, said: 

^‘Well, squire, I must say she^s a pretty spunky sort of a 
woman, that sister of yourn!^^ 

Who are you — how long have you been here — did you hear 

incoherently gasped the startled villain. 

heard every word!^^ interrupted his visitor, with an air 
of triumph. ^‘That answers two of your questions, I be- 
lieve; but the other I do not know as I feel inclined to re- 
ply to just at present/^ 


THBICE WEDDED. 


53 


^^How came yon here?^^ demanded Squire Moulton, be- 
ginning to recover himself somewhat, and angry at the in- 
solent manner of the other. 

^^Well, if you must know just how I came, I rode part of 
the way, and walked toother part.'^ 

There was a sly twinkle in his eye, and a sarcastic smile 
lurking in the corners of his mouth. 

^‘What was your object in prowling around my grounds, 
and listening to conversation which did not concern you!^^ 

The schemer^s voice was more friendly now, for he felt he 
was in the man’s power, and it would be better to tempor- 
ize with him than to threaten him, though in his heart he 
wished he could strike him dead at his feet. 

^‘Well, squire, I don’t know as I object to telling you that 
that woman has been prowling around here, too, for several 
days. I’ve sort o’ had my eyes on her, and I thought I’d 
find out what she was up to. As to its being no concern of 
mine, perhaps ’tis, and then again perhaps it isn’t. Any- 
way, I rather think she’s got a little the best of you, hain’t 
she, squire! — that is,” he added slyly, ‘^unless you can get 
hold o’ them pictures. Handsome man, that! Seems to 
me I’ve seen him somewhere before now.” 

^‘The duse take it!” muttered the squire, uneasily. 
would give a good deal if I had them in my possession.” 

Would you, really?” asked the other, a sudden idea 
seeming to strike him. ^‘Well, what would you give a fel- 
ler to get them for you?” 

^^Ah!” said Squire Moulton, starting, and eying his 
strange companion closely. ^^I would give a hundred dol- 
lars — fifty on the spot, and fifty more when they are in my 
possession.” 

‘^By golly, I’m your man, then! Pork over, and call it a 
job!” 

The strange man sprang eagerly to his feet, evidently 
anxious to have his services engaged. 

^^But,” returned the other, hesitating, don’t know 
anything about you. How do I know but you will make off 
with the money I give you, and never show yourself again? 
What is your name?” 

^^Well, I am a stranger in these parts, so I guess you 
won’t be able to find out much about me, except what I 
choose to tell you myself. I go by the name of Eonald Ed- 
gerton — a pretty good sounding one, I think, too. And as 


64 


THRICE WEBBED. 


to my making off with your money, you^ll have to take m6 
on trust, I guess, as Tve nobody to back me/^ 

^^Where did you come from?^^ asked the squire, wishing 
he could strike the man, for his cool insolence exasperated 
him beyond measure. 

^‘Well, I came from the city out here; but I hail from 
California. , 

“Californiar repeated the squire, with a gasp. ^^What 
part of the State 

^‘The diggins! Mighty poor diggins they were, too, for 
me, so I thought Fd better dig for somewhere else. But 
what do you say, squire — is it a trade that I go for the 
pictures 

don^t know,” muttered the perplexed man, less and 
less inclined to trust the stranger. 

^‘Better,” replied Honald Edgerton, laconically. 

<<Why?” demanded Squire Moulton, sharply. 

^^Well” — continuing to use what seemed to be a favorite 
word with him — '^ell, Tve gained some pretty valuable in- 
formation to-day, you know, and if I canH make a trade 
with you, why, I shall be under the necessity of doing so 
with some one else!” 

^^Oh! you threaten me, do you?” 

‘^ISTot at all, squire — not at all; only a feller must get a 
living some way or other.” 

''What do you do generally for a living ?” 

"Well, most anything that turns up; sometimes this and 
sometimes that.” 

Squire Moulton was in despair. He could get nothing 
whatever out of the man. He was too much for even his 
sharp villainy to fathom, and no cross-questioning could 
catch him. He did not like his appearance at all. Some- 
times he spoke like a gentleman, and sometimes like a rough, 
ignorant fellow. He was a puzzle, which it was beyond his 
power and wit to solve. It would have pleased him better 
had there been more of the decided rascal about him. But 
tlie man had evidently listened to the whole of the conver- 
sation he had had with his sister, and he was in his power. 
All his dearest secrets were now in the possession of this 
cool, insolent man who called himself Konald Edgerton; 
and he cursed himself again and again for having allowed 
himself to breathe them in the open air. But it was of no 


THRICE WEDDED, 


65 


use now, to waste time in vain repinings, and he resolved to 
do the best he could by making an ally of the man. 

^^ril tell you what I will do, Edgerton,^^ he said, at length, 
assuming a friendly air, at the same time drawing forth his 
purse. ‘‘1 will hire you to do such little odd Jobs as these, 
if you like, and pay you well for them, too. You shall have 
the fifty dollars now, and the remainder when you bring me 
the pictures, then I shall have something else on the docket, 
I have no doubt. 

^‘That’s it; now you talk to the point! Thank^ee, sir,^^ 
he said, as he took the money. 

^•You will not fail me now — I may depend upon you?^^ 

^^Depend upon me, that you may. If it^s in the power 
of man, Ifil have that breastpin before many days. I guess 
ril be traveling now,^^ he said, as he put the bill out of 
sight; ^^but you will see me again soon. Good-day, sir.'"’ 

He touched his slouch cap politely to the squire, and 
turning, was quickly lost to view.^^ 

For some moments Squire Moulton stood lost in deep 
thought. He could not trust the man fully, try as he would. 
But he was where he CDuld not help himself, and so resolved 
to make the best of the matter. 

Konald Edgerton walked briskly in the direction of the 
city, for half a mile, when he came upon a horse tied to a 
tree. He quickly unhitched the animal, and leaping into 
the saddle, trotted swiftly away. It was getting dark, and 
he spurred his horse onward, looking anxiously at every ob- 
ject he passed. Soon his eye brightened, for he caught 
sight of a familiar figure hurrying in the same direction 
with himself. He now slackened his speed, in order to keep 
the figure in view, but did not follow so closely as to be him- 
self discovered. 

They entered the city, and he rode nearer to Eose Moul- 
ton, for she it was whom he was watching. 

She had walked swiftly after fleeing from her brother's 
grounds, in order to gain her lodgings before night came on; 
but her now lagging gait told that she was foot-sore and 
weary. Once she stopped and leaned against a lamp-post, 
but having a faint sigh, she soon started on again. 

She had not proceeded far before, uttering a deep cry, she 
fell stumbling upon the rough pavement. 

Quick as thought the horseman sprang to the ground, and 
before other assistance was offered, he had tenderly raised 


56 


THRICE WEDDED. 


her in his arms. He bent an anxious look upon her face, 
and placed his hand upon her heart. She had only fainted 
from weariness; and hastily calling a cab he placed her 
within, and giving the name and number of the street, to 
which he wished to be driven, he then followed. 

Seating himself, he took the insensible woman’s head in his 
lap, smoothed back with a gentle hand the heavy masses of 
her tangled hair; and once he heaVed a long, quivering sigh, 
and murmured — ^^Poor Kose!’^ 

But this weakness soon passed, and he began searching 
earnestly for the hidden treasure. IS’ot many moments 
passed ere he held it in his hand. He thrust it within his 
own bosom, and then hastily rolling the fifty-dollar note 
which he had received from the squire in a piece of paper, he 
put it in place of the stolen brooch. 

He had barely completed these operations when the car- 
riage stopped. Quickly gathering the woman, who was be- 
ginning now to revive, in his arms, he bore her into the 
house before which they had stopped, and left her in the care 
of the kind-hearted lady. 

The next day Edgerton, completely transformed by rich 
and handsome apparel, looking what he was in reality — 
every inch a gentleman— entered one of the first jewelry 
establishments in the city, and ordered a brooch to be made 
exactly like the one he had with him. When it was com- 
pleted he took the two to an artist, had the pictures copied 
and the copies put into the new ones, and in just one week 
from the day on which he made the bargain with the squire, 
he was back again to report his success. 

It was evening when he arrived, and he was shown into 
the library where the old man was sitting. 

It was a damp,, chilly evening, and there was a glowing 
fire in the grate, which rendered the room cheerful and in- 
viting. 

^‘Well, squire,’^ remarked Edgerton on entering, ^^you see 
taking a feller on trust ain’t so bad after all. Here I am 
back again, and with the plunder safe and sound in my 
pocket!” 

^^Keally, Mr. Edgerton, I am surprised that you should 
have been so expeditious,’* replied Squire Moulton, a flash 
of joy lighting up his wrinkled face. ‘'Where are they?” 
he continued, eagerly. 


mmcE WEDDED. 67 

^^Here/' replied Edgerton, and handed him the brooch 
which he had had made. 

He took it, and opening each lid, convinced himself iisat 
they were really the pictures of the faces he wished to pos- 
sess, then shutting them with a snap, he uttered an oath 
and cast them into the blazing grate. 

^‘ZoundsT^ exclaimed his ally, springing from his chair as 
if to save the doomed jewel; then drawing in a deep breath, 
he sank back again, inwardly congratulating himself that 
it was only the copy, and not the original. 

^^There!^^ said Squire Moulton, with an evil smile. ^‘Those 
infernal pictures will never trouble anybody again. 

‘‘That is true, sir,-^^ replied Edgerton, returning the smile 
tenfold, and speaking with marked emphasis. “Now,^^ he 
continued, *‘if you^ll hand over the cash, squire, Til go.^^ 

“Oh! but you have not told me how you gained possession 
of the brooch yet.^^ 

“Well,^^ laughed the other, “I was not aware it was in the 
bargain for me to reveal all my slight-of-hand performances, 
though it was easy enough done. You see I had my eye 
on the woman, and one day she fainted in the street, and 
I very humanely went to her assistance; a little maneuvering 
and the thing was mine.^^ 

“Where does she live?^^ asked the squire, scowling 
darkly. 

“Couldn't say just now, squire; but perhaps I can find 
out,^^ replied Edgerton, with a sly glance at the dark face 
before him. 

“Well, at all events, you have earned your hundred dol- 
lars easily enough.''^ 

He handed him the other fifty as he spoke. 

“Just keep your eye open, and report occasionally, and 
you shall be well paid for it.^^ 

“All right ; and now I will say good-evening to you, sir. 
It is some distance back to the city, and it is getting 
late.^^ 

Eonald Edgerton passed out into the night, leaving Squire 
Moulton to indulge in more pleasing reflections than he had 
enjoyed this many a day. 

“AhP muttered Edgerton, “you little know, my worthy 
squire, with whom you are dealing. I shall study this game 
pretty thoroughly. Your instinct is finer than your honor, 
yon fool, for you did not like to trust me^ but you were in 


58 


flllilCE webbed. 


rather a tight place, and I warn you to look to it, that some 
day you are not in a tighter one/^ 


CHAPTER IX. 

COKFIDEKCE. 

Six years! 

How much significance those two short words contain! 
To how many souls they have brought joy and sorrow, weal 
and woe — some lifted to the highest pinnacle of happiness, 
while others are driven to the deepest depths of despair! 

Hearts so gay and happy six years ago, now crushed with 
their weight of trials and cares. Bright eyes have wept away 
their luster over hopes that were born but to wither and die. 
The cankerous worm, sorrow, gnawing at once happy hearts, 
has robbed the once rounded cheek of its bloom and beauty, 
leaving in their place deep lines of pain and suffering which 
time can never remove. 

Sorrow! sorrow! The earth is full of sorrow! Yet a 
happy few there are who move on in the even tenor of their 
way, growing each year more beautiful and lovely, making 
the world glad, bright, and gay, dispensing sunshine and joy 
along the pathway of their lives, giving and receiving a full 
measure of eartlTs choicest blessings — love, joy, happiness! 

We will have nothing to do, dear reader, with life's shady 
side just now. Our lines are cast in more pleasant places, 
and we will enter for a while the charmed circle of the care- 
less and free. 

Madame Alroyd^s elegant up-town mansion was all one 
glittering blaze of light and beauty. 

Every pane of glass in the high and lofty windows was 
like a star, and every door-way and arch a constellation of 
stars; while every room and hall was a floral temple, filling 
the air around with the richest perfume. 

Guests, young, gay, and lovely, clad in their richest and 
most becoming robes, throng this modern palace to pay 
their compliments, congratulations, and adieus to its fair 
young mistress and heiress, who on the morrow is to leave 
her native land to travel among scenes new and strange in 
the olden world. 

It is Dora Dupont's eighteenth birthday. 

As she stands in all her royal beauty at one end of the 


THRICE WEDDED. 


69 


spacious drawing-room, clad in robes of glistening white, and 
receiving her guests with faultless grace, one cannot marvel 
at the words and looks of admiration and homage that fall 
from the lips and eyes of that brilliant assemblage. 

Yes, it is Dora Dupont! That ^diomely little squab,^^ to 
use Mr. Ellerton^s phraseology, had sprung up into a tall and 
graceful woman, beautiful as a dream, but in other respects 
the same laughing, happy Dora as of yore. 

The years had only added new graces, instead of robbing 
her of the old. There were the same sunny blue eyes, and 
golden brown hair, only perhaps with a deeper tint in their 
bright depths and silken sheen. The same rosebud mouth 
and laughing dimples. Her manners were as free and 
simple as when she ran skipping through the hall of the 
little white cottage to meet Eobert Ellerton on that bright, 
fine morning, six years ago. Ho amount of city polishing 
could rob her of her freshness, and this alone added tenfold 
to her charms. 

But how came she here, surrounded by so much wealth 
and magnificence? 

Ah! Death had again breathed his icy breath upon her 
home, and laid low her fond and tender mother. But not 
to leave her friendless and alone, as she feared, for before 
her grief had had time to sere her heart, she was again sur- 
rounded by an atmosphere of tenderest love and care. 

Ere she could realize to the full extent her great loss, she 
was plunged into the lap of luxury, and into the arms of a 
doting, lonely old woman. 

The years passed quickly away after Eobert Ellerton^s de- 
parture for Germany, despite the loneliness and dreariness 
which ^ ^Bright ie^^ at first thought would follow. Then her 
mother suddenly sickened and died, and the poor girl 
thought she was desolate indeed — alone in a cold and heart- 
less world. 

But the great Giver of Good did not so will it that this 
bright bird, so full of promise, should wither and droop be- 
fore its bloom. 

One day an elegant barouche stopped before the little 
white cottage, and a woman, attired to the extent of fashion, 
stepped to the ground and entered. 

It was Mrs. Dupont^s maiden aunt, who had cast her off 
when she displeased her by marrying the poor doctor. She 
was sixty years of age, but looked scarce fifty. 


60 


TEEICE WEBBED. 


Many a time her heart had been lonely and sick for the 
want of a little love; many a time her conscience had 
whispered that she had done wrong in forsaking her own 
flesh and blood; but pride would not let her yield, until her 
once darling and favorite was laid cold and silent beneath 
the sod. 

Then, in her grief and remorse, she pounced down upon 
poor, terrified little Dora, and carried her off, to love, pet, 
and spoil her, if she could, and to make a lady of her. 

Everything that heart could wish was now hers, and she 
reigned a very queen over a household of servants, and in 
the heart of Madame Alroyd, and despite the shadows that 
had clouded her young life, she grew happy as a bird, and 
bright and winsome as the day. 

Her education was now completed, and for the past few 
months she had reigned as a beauty and a belle in the first 
circles of New York. 

But Dora had not forgotten her childhood, nor her boy 
husband. 

Oh, no! Even now his picture lay against her throbbing 
heart, and not a day passed but that it was taken from its 
hiding-place, and pressed tenderly and passionately to her 
ripe, beautiful lips. 

But it was her secret! 

She had never dared to tell her aunt of that episode in her 
life, fearing that the sacredness with which she regarded it 
would be laughed to scorn. 

And so the years came and went, until she arrived at 
young ladyhood, and suitors by the score flocked around the 
wealthy beauty, seeking in vain for a favorable response to 
their vows of eternal love and fidelity. 

All met with the same firm yet gentle reply, and went 
away disappointed, yet loving the more. 

Two young men had lately appeared in society, who 
seemed more favored than the others had been, and report 
said that one of these two would receive the prize. Which 
— all were waiting eagerly to learn. 

One was a young German, highly educated and refined, 
handsome and wealthy. He had recently graduated at a 
celebrated seminary in his native country, and was now mak- 
ing a tour of the United States. 

His name was Fredrich Weimher. 

The other was— Moulton! 


THRICE WEDDED. 


61 


Both hovered near Dora now, waiting anxiously to be 
favored with a smile or a word. 

A band of musicians, concealed by a floral screen, sud- 
denly struck up their inspiriting music, and both these 
young gentlemen stepped quickly forward to secure her hand 
for the dance. 

Fredrich Weimher, being flrst, secured the prize, and 
led her away, leaving Kalph Moulton standing alone, angrily 
gnawing his lips and frowning darkly. 

Graceful as a willow was our heroine, and as gracefully 
Mr. Weimher bore her through the mazes of the dance, and 
then led her away to get a breath of fresh air. 

Sweeping aside some heavy curtains, they stepped through 
a low window, out upon a balcony, and were hidden from 
view of the guests within the drawing-room. 

^‘Miss Dora,^^ said Fredrich Weimher, gayly, have not 
yet offered you my congratulations. Permit me to do so 
now.^^ 

thank you, my friend, for I believe you sincere; which 
can be said of very few out of the many who are here to- 
night. 

‘^All seem happy, nevertheless,^ he replied. 

Yes, replied Dora, half regretfully. ^^And I am happy, 
while at the same time I am sad. I long to visit the old 
world, and yet it makes me almost homesick to leave my na- 
tive land, though I have not many kindred ties to bind me 
here.^^ 

^^Your friends will miss you sadly. Miss Dupont.^^ 

^^Thank you again, Mr. Weimher, and I may reckon you 
among them, I trust,^^ she replied, smiling archly up at him. 

^^A friend! Oh, Dora, pardon me, but I can be still no 
longer. I brought you out here to speak my farewell, for I 
could not say it when othei:s were looking coldly on; and 
does not your heart tell you that I had more than a formal 
farewell to say? Does it not tell you that I am more than a 
friend? It is a cold word to apply to me, who loves you as 
deeply as I do. Do not hide your face, my darling, but give, 
oh, give me the love I crave.” 

He would have taken her hand, but she held it from him, 
while a look of pain swept over her fair face. 

“Oh, Dora,” he went on, while a shade of keen disap- 
pointment clouded his eyes, “have you not seen how dear 
you have become to me, how I have fed and lived upon your 


62 


THRICE WEDDED. 


smile? Has your heart no welcome for me? You do not 
answer. Oh, my love, my love! do not send me from you, 
I pray! Give me what I ask, else my heart will break.^^ 

‘^Fredrich,'’^ she began, and then hesitated. 

^^Ah, darling, thank you lor uttering that one word. Bless 
you. You will give yourself to me — you are mine!’^ 

He passed his arm around her waist, and drawing her 
tenderly toward him bent a look of eager love upon her fair 
face. 

But she quietly disengaged herself from his embrace, and 
though the tears were in her lovely eyes, and her voice trem- 
bled with every word she uttered, there was a quiet firmness 
in her manner that crushed every atom of hope from his 
breast. 

‘^Mr. Weimher, I am pained beyond measure at your 
words, for they make me feel as if I had deceived you with 
false hopes; but what you ask can never be!^' 

She paused a moment, then went on, sadly: 

have loved you — nay, hear me,^^ she added, quickly, as 
he flashed a look of joy at her — have respected you as a 
friend, and loved you as I would a brother, but I never 
dreamed you cherished a deeper feeling for me. I thought 
Miss Nettie Allen had your hearts best and deepest devo- 
tion 

‘^Oh, Dora, my lost love, I cannot bear this, he groaned. 

^^Yes, my friend, you must bear it, though it pains me to 
say it. I have always treated you openly and frankly, have 
I not?^^ 

^‘Y^es, but — oh, cruel fate! I had so hoped there might be 
something deeper beneath.’^ 

‘^Forgive me, Fredrich, if I have unintentionally misled 
you. But I can never give you more than a sisteFs affec- 
tion, and that you shall have.” , 

^^But, Dora, I will give you time, and perhaps you can 
learn to love me as something nearer. Oh, if you will try,” 
pleaded the disappointed man. 

^^My poor^ friend, it can never, never be. It is an utter 
impossibility!” she replied, w^eeping bitterly. After a few 
moments spent in deep thought, she continued: 

^‘Listen, Mr. Weimher, and I will tell you a secret. No 
one knows it. It is a story of the past, and I tell it to you 
to prove to you how hopeless it is for you to love me. My 
friend, I may trust you? You will not betray me?” 


fHElCE WEDDED. 


63 


^^Can you ask? You have but to command me, and I 
obey, even to the yielding up of life itself/^ 

She sighed deeply. It pained her to know of such rare 
devotion, when she" had nothing to give in return. Bend- 
ing toward him, she whispered: 

love another. I am already married 

^^Good heavens!^^ he exclaimed, leaning trembling and 
aghast against the railing of the balcony. 

^^It is even so,’^ she returned, sadly. ^^But I doubt if I 
should even know my own husband should I meet him now/^ 

She then related to him the story of her youthful mar- 
riage, with which the reader is already acquainted; while 
Fredrich Weimher listened, spell-bound, to the thrilling 
and startling events which had transpired to bind for life one 
so young, beautiful, and good. 

There was a look of hope in his eyes again when she had 
finished, and he said, eagerly: 

^^Dora, do you not know that that marriage ceremony can 
be set aside now if you so will it. If you will only give 
yourself to me, I will devote my life to your service until 
you are free.'^ 

^^Nay — nay, my kind friend, you would but wreck my 
life then 

^^The fates forbid T he interrupted, fervently. 

“For,^^ she went on, ^‘1 love Bobbie Ellerton still. 
Strange though it may seem, when that evil-minded man 
made us man and wife, I gave myself wholly to him. My 
love has grown with the growth of years, and I feel that 
naught but death can ever break the link that binds us. 

^^But, Dora, were you free — forgive me, but I must know 
— if by any chance death should set you free, would you 
give yourself to me?'^ 

He bent over her, holding his very breath, and his heart 
beat almost to suffocation as he waited for her answer, for 
upon it depended his last and only hope. 

^ ^Fredrich — Mr. Weimher, I beg — I entreat you will not 
harbor such a thought for an instant, she said, wildly. 
^‘He will not die — he shall not die. It cannot be that I have 
loved him all these long years for naught. It would shroud 
my life in a night of wild despair. Ko, he promised he 
would come and claim me, and I feel — I know he will. Yes, 
I am Robert Ellerton^s bride, and his alone will I be, wheth- 
er it be a bride of life or of death. 


64 


mmCE WEDDED. 


He buried his face in his hands, and she could see the 
bright tears trickling through his fingers and falling at his 
feet. 

The sight of his sorrow recalled her to herself. 

^^Fredrich/^ said she, almost tenderly, ^‘forgive me, hut I 
must tell you the truth, and it is best you should know the 
worst at once. Go and seek some one fairer and more worthy 
your love than I, and from my heart 1 will say Heaven bless 
you."" 

^^Can you ask me to do that? can you bid my heart 
so soon forget its allegiance?"" 

^^Ah! but you would bid mine forget its own, and come 
to you,"" she replied, smiling. 

He started at the reproof. 

^ ^Forgive me,’" he said, repentantly; am selfish in my 
sorrow. I accept my sentence, and will try to bear 
it patiently, and think myself blessed if I can but merit 
your friendship; and should you ever need a faithful friend, 
you have only to call upon Fredrich Weimher."" 

^^Thank you, I will,"" she said, frankly holding out her 
hand to him, while in her secret heart she honored him for 
his manly conduct. ^^And now,"" she added, ^ 'would you 
like to see my hero as he was then?"" 

She drew the hidden locket from its resting-place, touched 
the spring, and held it up before him. He looked — 
started — looked again. 

^'Miss Dupont,"" he exclaimed, ^^surely it connot be — ^but 
it must be — it is one of the dearest friends I have! Eobert 
Ellerton! strange I did not think before. Why, Dora, I 
know your boy-husband — he and I have spent many an hour 
in hard study together, though he is younger, and I gradu- 
ated a year ago. He is a splendid fellow, and worthy even 
of your priceless love."" 

She had listened in pale and silent amazement to his 
words, while she trembled in every nerve with joyous excite- 
ment, and now poured forth a perfect torrent of questions. 

And he gave her the whole story. 

When Eobert Ellerton first entered the German institute 
he was a lonely, sorrowful boy, always pale and silent, but a 
perfect scholar, never knowing what the word failure meant. 
Fredrich Weimher, noble, kind-hearted, and tender, pitied 
the stranger so far from his native land, sought him out, 
and at once made friends with him* 


mniGE WEDDED. 


' They were more like brothers than friends, and were 
scarcely ever separated until Fredrich graduated and started 
on his American tour. 

One thing alone Robert would never talk about, and that 
was his home affairs, seeming quite sensitive if the subject 
was even mentioned. That, and that alone, was the only 
thing in which Fredrich did not share his confidence. 

^^Heaven bless you, Dora, my friend P'’ cried Weimher, as 
be concluded his recital, and smiling quite brightly. 
can give you up with one pang less, now that I know you 
belong to my dearest friend.'^ 

^^Oh, Fredrich Weimher, replied the delighted girl, ^fif 
I considered you my friend before, you are doubly so now. I 
only regret that I did not make a confidant of you sooner; 
it might have saved you pain, and given me much happi- 
ness to hear directly from one who is so dear to me. But I 
leave on the morrow, and must say farewell to you now and 
return to my guests, or I shall be missed. 

He took the white-gloved hand held out to him, and 
pressed it fervently, then gently drawing her toward him, 
he bent and respectfully kissed her fair upturned brow, say- 
ing: 

Good-by, my friend — my sister. May old Heptune bear 
you safely on your journey, and perchance we may meet 
abroad, for I shall shortly return to my native country. God 
grant you may meet your own loved one, and that unalloyed 
happiness may ever be yours. 

He turned quickly from her, and disappeared within, 
leaving her alone, happy yet sorrowful, for his was too 
noble a heart to be rent with unrequited love. 

As Fredrich Weimher lifted the heavy curtains which 
concealed the balcony on which he and Dora had stood, and 
stepped within the drawing-room, a man moved quickly 
aside, scowling blackly upon him, yet with a certain air of 
triumph. But his evil gaze was thrown away, for its object 
passed on and soon left the mansion. 


CHAPTER X. 

^GOl^" SHE COMMANDED. 

Waiting a few moments, Ralph Moulton — for it was he 
who was hidden among the heavy folds of drapery, and had 
listened to every word that passed between Weimher and 


ee , fmicE WEttMb. 

Dora — stepped softly out upon the balcony, and stood beside 
his fair hostess. 

She was weeping, and did not notice him until he laid his 
hand gently upon his smooth, bare arm, and said, in a sym- 
pathizing tone: 

‘‘Why do you weep, Miss Dupont?’^ 

With a start of aifright and a haughty gesture, she moved 
away from him, for his familiar touch angered her. 

Hastily wiping her eyes, she said, coldly: 

“Eeally, Mr. Moulton, I don’t know as I can explain to 
you my feelings. Sadness, I presume, is one cause of my 
tears. 

“And what could possibly render Miss Dupont sad? Me- 
thought her life was as fair and bright as earth’s choicest 
gifts could make it,” he said, with a voice which he tried to 
make tender. 

“If you please,” she replied, “we will not discuss that 
subject now, Mr. Moulton.” 

She turned abruptly to leave the balcony, for she deemed 
him rude to intrude himself upon her when she was strug- 
gling with her sad feelings. 

He quickly caught her hand, detaining her, while he ex- 
claimed: 

“Stay, Miss Dupont; do not leave me so, for I have some- 
thing to say to you.” 

“I am listening,” she replied coldly. “But pray, Mr. 
Moulton, be good enough to release my hand.” 

He did not release it, but drew it within his arm, and 
then led her to one end of the balcony. 

“Miss Dupont — Dora, I love you; will you be my wife?” 

“No, sir,” she answered, sharply. 

He started violently; then said, reproachfully: 

“I beg your pardon; did I understand you aright?” 

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Moulton, for allowing myself to 
speak in such a manner,” she replied, wearily. 

Her heart had been almost broken with the scene that had 
just transpired, and she did not feel equal to another. 

“I have not been feeling very happy for a few moments 
past,’' she went on; “but I am pained at your declaration, 
for I cannot return your affection.” 

“Miss Dupont, you must not say that,” he returned, 
almost fiercely, “for my happiness — nay, my life depends 
upon your love*” 


THRICE WEDDED. 


67 


cannot listen to such words as these, Mr. Moulton; niy 
answer is final. Please ^llow me to return to the drawing- 
room/^ 

Never he replied, hotly, as he seized her in his arms 
with a convulsive clasp and rained kiss after kiss upon her 
white face. ‘'Never until you yield to my love, my darling. 
My heart tells me that you are mine — mine by the right of 
my insatiable love, which nothing earthly can quell. No, 
no, my pretty one; lie still in these arms, which have ached 
to infold thee for months— -nay, for years; while my tongue 
has burned to pour forth the story of my adoration, but 
never before have 1 dared to approach you with these words. 
My own, my own, you are about to be torn from me, and I 
cannot longer be silent. I cannot let you go; I would die 
lo serve you, and do you think I will let the sea divide us? 
Never! I wilt follow you to the ends of the earth, and the 
land where you dwell shall be my home. Dora — Dora Du- 
pont, you must — you shall be my wife!^^ 

He stopped, exhausted by his emotions, though he still 
held her pressed close to his fiercely throbbing heart. 

"Mr. Moulton, will you be good enough to unhand me? 
or shall I be obliged to call for assistance ?^^ 

Ice could not have been harder or colder than the clear, 
frozen tones which fell upon his ear. 

In an instant his arms dropped from around her, and 
then they closed firmly across his breast, while he gazed 
upon her with eyes that almost burned her with their in- 
tense brightness. 

Scornfully erect she stood for a moment, returning his 
gaze with one full of defiance. 

Her white robes trailed in graceful folds around her; her 
head was thrown haughtily back, while her nostrils quivered 
and dilated with the virtuous indignation that surged be- 
neath her heaving bosom. J uno in her wrath could not 
have been more majestic and glorious. 

"Your insulting words and deportment, sir, merit but 
one answer, she sternly said. "Go, and never let me look 
upon your face again 

"By Heaven, I will notP^ he replied, stung to madness by 
her look and tone. "Is'there no pity in your heart for love 
like mine? I will not believe you so cold and dead to all 
feeling as your words implj;.^^ 

"If you expected love, or sympathy even, from me, Mr, 


68 


THBIGE WEDDED. 


Moulton, you have taken the wrong way to obtain them. I 
am not one to be forced 

“Forgive me, my beautiful one; but I could not help it, 
and on my knees I beg your pardon,^^ pleaded Ealph 
Moulton, with white face and imploring eyes upraised to 
hers. 

“^Tis useless; I do not and cannot love you.'^ 

He was on his feet again in an instant, while the hot, 
angry blood mounted to his brow. 

“Is that answer final, Dora Dupont?^^ he asked between 
his set teeth. 

“It is,^’ she returned, coldly. “And now allow me, if you 
phase, to return to my guests. 

She began to wonder within herself how she had ever 
tolerated this man^s presence. 

He placed himself'directly in her way while he said: 

“I warn you, Dora Dupont, to beware. lam notone to be 
trifled with. I give you one more opportunity to accept as 
true and pure a love as ever throbbed in the heart of man 
or woman. Will you accept it 

“IS'ever!’^ 

“Enough! I swear — hear me — I swear you shall yet be 
my wife! Think not that I care for that foolish, childish 
ceremony; that can easily be set aside. Yes, you need not 
start and grow pale — I know your whole history. You lit- 
tle dreamed that it was the nephew of the man who 
bound you and your boy lover together; who bowed 
down and worshiped you. That marriage was illegal; I 
can prove it, and besides there were no witnesses. And 
then I have a sweet little secret for your ear that may cause 
you to change your mind, and accept my offer. I presume 
you think you are wedded to an honorable person, and the 
son of a wealthy man. But let me undeceive you! Kobert 
Ellerton, Jr., has no right to his name! Come nearer and 
let me whisper, lest the winds should perchance gather the 
words and waft them to other ears. I am the rightful son 
of Eobert Ellerton, while he is ” 

The remainder of the sentence was barely breathed in 
her ear; but she heard it, for she grew white to her very 
lips, and shivered as if with the cold; but her voice never 
faltered as she replied: 

“Coward, do you think I will credit your base falsehood? 
You have no proof of your vile'S-ssertionsr^ 


THRICE WEDDED. 


69 


quite so fast, my pretty one. I have the proofs here; 
come nearer to this light and I will explain. 

He took some papers from his pocket as he spoke, while 
she, drawn as if by fascination, came and stood beside him. 

^‘Robert Ellerton,'’ he explained, casting a triumphant 
look upon her, ^‘was secretly married to my mother long be- 
fore your hero was born. I say secretly married, for he be- 
lieved the ceremony to be only a farce, for he hired a man 
to marry them whom he thought had no legal authority. 
But he was mistaken, as these papers prove. My mother 
was Squire Moulton^s cousin, though until within a few 
years I had been led to believe that she was his sister. When 
Ellerton wished to marry his other sweetheart, he coolly in- 
formed my mother that she was not legally his wife, and 
that he could no longer take care of her; and 6he, stung to 
madness, fled from the country. After she had gone, my 
uncle, who hated Ellerton, discovered that the marriage was 
legal, and w^ent to seek her and restore her to her rights; 
but she died at Haples, and Squire Moulton brought me to 
this country and educated me. I only discovered this a few 
years ago, and have been waiting until we both had flnished 
our education, that my triumph might be more complete. I 
am the rightful son and heir of Robert Ellerton; and now it 
rests with you whether I assert my claims, and bring shame 
and disgrace upon one whom you profess to love so deeply, 
or whether I remain plain Ralph Moulton, with you for my 
loved and cherished wife. Examine these papers, and see if 
I have not proof of w^hat I tell you.’^ 

He held them up before her as he finished speaking. 

She read the marriage certificate, with Robert Ellerton 
and Rose Moulton^s names attached, and her heart sank like 
lead in her bosom as she realized what suffering and shame 
it would bring upon her loved one if exposed to the world. 
She could easily have snatched the paper from him and 
torn it to fragments had she desired; but her pride would 
not allow her to let him see and gloat over the pain that 
racked her soul, and she answered, proudly: 

do not believe the story you have told meT 
^^What! not with this paper to prove it?^^ he asked, shak- 
ing the paper he held. 

^^Ho. It were easy enough to forge it, to serve your base 
purposes. And were Robert Ellerton to-day a beggar in rags, 
and disgraced as you would have me believe^ I would gladly 


70 


THRICE WEDDED. 


share nis lot before I would wed with you, had you a thous- 
and fortunes! Now I command you go, and never pollute 
my sight with your vile presence again 

She raised her graceful arm and pointed toward the draw- 
ing-room. 

“You’ll repent of this, my fair lady, and that right soon, 
too,’^ he muttered, savagely. 

He took a step forward as if to obey the imperious com- 
mand, then stopped and turned toward her again. 

“I warn you once again that I will hunt your lover to the 
death, and I swear that you shall yet be my wifeP’ 

Her clear eyes flashed angrily, and her Anger did not even 
quiver as it still pointed toward him. 

“Gor 

Clear and ringing as a trumpet-call it sounded on the 
still night air, and a tiny foot stamped impatiently upon the 
floor of the balcony. 

Like the craven coward he was, his eyes drooped before 
her stern gaze, and he slunk cringingly from her sight. 

A deep, shuddering sob burst from Dora Dupont^s pale lips 
as he disappeared. She clasped lier hands upon her breast, 
as if to still the painful throbbings of her aching heart, 
while an expression of keenest agony swept over her beauti- 
ful face. 

“Heaven grant that it is nothing but a base calumny,'^ 
she murmured, as she paced to and fro. “But I fear it is 
all too true; still, it maybe, he only did it to frighten me 
into becoming his wdfe — coward that he is, to threaten a 
weak woman! But Bobbie, come weal or come woe, I am 
yours, and only yours, until my heart shall cease to beat.^^ 

A sweet smile dispersed the shade of anxiety that clouded 
her lovely face, as her thoughts flew over the seas to one 
whom she knew would yet claim her as his own. 

“Oh, heartless flirt that I am,^^ she continued, after a 
moment — “two offers in one night! The Fates defend me 
against another!’^ 

Saying which, she gracefully swept aside the heavy 
drapery, and appeared within the brilliantly lighted draw- 
ing-room again. 

• * * ♦ :J« ^ * 

The following day a noble steamer sailed slowly down the 


fEniGE WEDDW. 


n 


harbor, laden with its precious weight of human freight. 
Hundreds were gathered upon its wide, clean decks, gazing 
back upon the gradually receding spires and domes of the 
great city. 

Among these, but standing apart by themselves, was a gay 
and joyous party, who seemed to have cast all care and 
trouble to the winds, and who were happy only in the 
present, and in anticipations of the future. 

Madame Alroyd and Dora, attended by their servants, 
were of this party; and our lovely heroine was laughing 
and chatting merrily, as if no sorrow had ever clouded her 
fair brow or dimmed the luster of her clear blue eye. 

She could not be still. Her gayety sparkled and bubbled 
forth in a continual stream of bright sayings and musical, 
silvery laughter, for was she not bound for the land that 
held her darling? And perhaps she might by some chance 
meet him there! It should be no fault of hers if she did 
not; and she knew their hearts would speak for themselves 
when that happy day should arrive; and she felt earth could 
hold no greater joy for her than to be again clasped to his 
loving, throbbing heart as in days of yore, and to feel that 
nothing earthly could ever again separate them. 

Many wondered at this bright, innocent beauty's excessive 
life and joy that day, and many envious glances were drawn 
toward the group that was such a host of pleasure in itself. 

On the opposite side of the deck stood a man wrapped in 
a large traveling cloak, and with a hat slouched and drawn 
down over a pair of piercing black eyes. 

At his side stood another clad in like manner, only his 
hair was white, and he had a disagreeable stoop in his 
shoulders. 

Both these men were engaged in a low, muttering con- 
versation, while at the same time they cast baleful looks 
upon the party opposite, who little dreamed of the phantoms 
of evil lurking in their path, tracking their every footstep, 
and vowing eternal vengeance. 


CHAPTER XL 

THE MIDKIGHT VISIT. 

Late one night, while the wind was howling dismally, and 
the rain poured down in torrents, a carriage drawn by a pair 


n 


TSRIC^ WEDDRD. 


of noble but weary and dripping horses, drew up before an 
inn in the village of , Germany. 

Two men alighted, and muttering discontentedly about 
the storm, hastened within the friendly shelter of the inn. 

It was not a first-class inn. All those were already filled 
to overfiowing by the crowds who thronged the place to be 
present on the morrow at the commencement exercises of 
Institute. 

The house before which our travelers had stopped, al- 
though clean and moderately well kept, was one in which 
the middle and lower classes collected every night to drink 
their beer, smoke their meerschaums and chat a while around 
the fire, which always burned brightly in the public room. 

This room was now occupied by a dozen or more of this 
class, who left off their drinking and smoking as the strangers 
entered and shook the water from their dripping cloaks. 

Mine host approached them with many smiles, asking what 
he could do for them, and at the same time assisting them 
to remove their wet garments. 

^^Give us a warm, private room, and something hot to eat 
and drink/^ replied the younger of the two gentlemen, 
^^and be quick about it too,^^ he added, ‘ffor we are almost 
perished with this cold, miserable storm. 

The speaker took off his hat as he spoke, revealing the 
handsome face of Kalph Moulton! While his companion 
proved to be Kalph Moulton the elder! 

A man who was seated in the back part of the room, and 
rather in the shadow, started violently as the features of the 
new-comers were revealed; and he drew still farther into the 
shade, while he pulled up his coat collar, so that it half con- 
cealed his face; and then he sat in an attitude which showed 
that he was eagerly listening to catch every word that should 
be uttered. 

In a few moments the host entered, saying their room 
was in readiness, and that supper would soon be served to 
them. 

^^A wet night!^^ he said, affably, while he lighted a candle. 

^‘Yes, blast it!’^ replied Ralph, the younger, who con- 
stituted himself spokesman. “A mighty disagreeable night 
for any one to be out, especially if they have traveled as 
many miles as we have to-day. 

^‘Come to be here at the grand doings to-morrow?^' asked 
the irrepressible keeper. 


THRICE WEDDED. 


73 


<^XJm — yes — partly. Please show ns to our room now/^ 
was the curt reply. 

The host accommodatingly shut his mouthy and taking the 
candle preceded the strangers- from the room. 

The moment they had disappeared, the man who was 
sitting in the back part of the room, and who had been so 
affected upon their arrival, arose and left the inn. 

Heedless of the driving storm, he proceeded, quickly 
toward a drug store. Arriving there he purchased a fine 
white powder, and again returned to the inn. 

He did not go back into the public room, but proceeding 
round to the back door, entered the kitchen where he 
seemed to be perfectly at home. 

Going to the stove he sat down and appeared to be watch- 
ing the servants while they prepared the strangers’ supper. 

He seemed to be a favorite with the maids, with whom he 
laughed and joked in a familiar manner. 

^^Who are them new ones? Seen ’em?” at length asked 
one whom they called Mina, and who seemed to be queen 
of the kitchen. 

^‘Strangers from over the water,” was the reply. 

'Tretty grand, ain’t they? with their private rooms and 
supper served in them? Most folks who come here don’t 
feel so big but what they can eat in the room with common 
people.” 

^‘Oh, well,” replied the man, ^^t hat’s the way with the 
bon ton, as they call them over in the United States.” 

^ ^What’s that,” asked Mina, with wide eyes and open 
mouth. 

^‘Bon ton! Don’t you know what that means?” replied 
her companion, with an amused smile at her astonishment, 
^Ht means those who live at the top of the ladder!” 

‘‘How do you know? Have you ever been there ?’^ 

^Hjord bless you, yes! I was born there!” 

^'Eh !” exclaimed the girl, amazed. ‘ ‘And you talk as much 
like a Dutchman as any of us!” 

Again the man smiled. Had he chosen he could have 
entertained her with several other languages; but he did not 
choose to subject himself to her curiosity, and so remained 
silent, but watching intently every movement of the ser- 
vants as they prepared the tempting viands for the new- 
comers. 

Once he was left entirely alone in the room. He hastily 


THRICE WEDDED. 


arose, and noiselessly lifting the lid of the steaming coffee- 
pot, emptied the whole powder he had obtained at the 
drug store within it, then resumed his seat and former posi- 
tion. 

^ ‘What room do the strangers have? I thought the house 
was full,^^ he carelessly asked when Mina returned to her 
duties. 

^^Oh, the one over the keeping-room. We never let any 
but big bugs have that, you know, no matter how full we 
are,^^ replied the girl. * 

His eyes glowed with a strange bright light for a. moment, 
then a look of fierce determination settled over his face. 

Soon after he arose, and taking a candle retired to his 
room, which proved to be directly back of the one w'hich 
Ealph Moulton occupied. 

The house was a wide building, with a hall running 
through the center. The public room and kitchen were on 
one side of this, and on the other the keeping-room and 
dining-room; and overhead ^v ere chambers corresponding. 

Between the room which the Moultons occupied and that 
belonging to the strange man was a huge chimney, leaving 
quite a space on one side for closets, one in each room, 
which were separated from each other only by a thin, loose, 
board partition. 

The man, on entering his room, set his candle upon a 
table. He then began to disrobe himself, first removing a 
huge wig and heavy pair of whiskers, revealing the black, 
curling locks and handsome face of Ealph Moulton^s ally, 
Ronald Edgerton. 

guess the old rascal couldnT have known me, anyhow, 
he muttered, with a complacent smile at the transformation, 
‘‘but I felt rather ticklish when they came in so unexpect- 
edly. To think that youngster should be so near me and 
not 

He stopped suddenly, and looked around as if he feared 
some one might overhear what he was about to utter. Then, 
heaving a deep sigh, while a look of sadness overshadowed 
his face, he removed his coat. 

“Well, I must to work now. I am bound to know if he 
hp it in his possession. If I do not find it to-night I shall 
give up the game.^^ 

Saying which, he took a small screw-driver from the table 
drawer, and going into the closet, listened intently* 


mmOE WMDDEi). 


% 

He could hear nothing but the sharp rattling of dishes 
and the low muttering of voices. 

He then cautiously applied his screw-driver, and removed 
an already loosened board at one end of the partition, and 
out of sight of the door, so that any one going to the closet 
would not discover the aperture. 

He then carefully squeezed himself through this opening 
and found himself in the closet belonging to the other room, 
and could now hear the voices quite plainly. 

He crept softly along to the door, and applying his ear to 
the crevice, could easily catch every word that was uttered. 
Squire Moulton was speaking, and he heard the words: 

^‘Let the girl go to the duse, boy; you have something of 
more importance on hand just now/^ 

tell you, uncle, I would give up everything to gain 
Dora Dupont for my wife,’^ said Ealph, excitedly. 

^‘Whatl would you give up an honorable name sneered 
the squire. 

The young man colored angrily. 

tell you,^^ he hissed, wonT be twitted with that 
again. You may carry out your own plans for revenge 
alone, for all me, if you canT treat me decently. 

^^Well, well/^ interrupted his uncle, soothingly. 

^^No, no; it isnT tvell, luell. You are always throwing out 
something about my parentage, and I am about tired of it."^' 

^‘That^s all the thanks I get,^' retorted Squire Moulton, 
hotly, ^^ere I am trying to help you to one of the first 
positions. Perhaps you would rather I would tell you out- 
right that you are illegitimate, with no chance of claiming 
an honorable name?^^ 

There was a touch of intense sarcasm in his tone. 

^You know better than that, uncle, and that I am only 
too willing to believe that I am the rightful son of Mr. Eller- 
ton; but it is not pleasant to be twitted about one’s obliga- 
tions.” ^ 

^ Yery true,” returned the squire, with an evil smile. ^‘But 
I wish you would let the girl alone.” 

‘T will not. I have sworn that I will have that girl for 
my wife, and have her I 

^'Well, let us talk of something else, then. You know 
Ellerton will be here to witness the honors with which his 
son is to graduate. He has not yet arrived. I bribed the 
driver who was to bring him not to let him arrive until after 


mnic:^ w^mEd. 


% 

the exercises had commenced. It won^t do to let father and 
son meet, you know — at least, not at present — it would spoil 
our plans. Have you made any arrangements to prevent it 
yet?'^ 

^'Yes; I saw Hans, the smuggler, told him what I wanted, 
and he has promised to have a decoy ready as soon as the 
exercises are over. I will see that he is kept out of the way 
• until I bring the girl to terms and get my claim established; 
then he may go free, for all I care.'’^ 

‘‘How are you going to manage it? You know as well as 
I do that the marriage was legal, and can only be annulled 
by both parties consenting to it.'^^ 

“I know it was legal, though I have told Dora Dupont 
that I could prove it was not. She won^t believe me, so I 
have given up trying to lie her out of it. But she is glori- 
ously proud, and I can easily send her a dainty little note, 
purporting to come from her gallant husband, saying that 
time and absence have effaced the affection he once had for 
her, and planted other hopes and plans in his heart; and 
asking that she will consent to a divorce! Of course, you 
can easily imagine what the reply of such a proud little 
beauty would be to a note of that kind. And then my way 
is clear. 

“Hum murmured his listener, discontentedly. “I don^t 
know as I care, only I wish you would take up the other 
matter first. I hate the son as bad as I hate the father, and 
want to see him dethroned. Perhaps, on the whole, it would 
be a good idea to get the girl away from him; it will only 
make the victory more complete. 

“ThaPs it; now you talk like business,'^ returned Ealph, 
his good nature now fully restored at his uncle s concession. 
“But,^' he added, “I’m dused sleepy; so let us go to bed.^^ 

“Very well; but first tell me how you are going to manage 
to keep young Ellerton out of the way while you do all this,^^ 
replied Squire Moulton. 

Ralph lowered his voice to a whisper as he replied; and 
turn which way he would, their listener could not hear what 
he said, only once he caught the words “cave^^ and “smug- 
gler. But that was sufficient to set him on the right 
track. 

The two plotters then retired to bed, and Eonald Edger- 
ton returned to his room, to wait until the drug which he 
had put into their coffee should take effect. 


THRICE WEDDED. 


11 


Two hours passed, and again donning his disguise, Eonald 
again made his way through the closets into the adjoining 
room. He left his candle just within the closet, partly 
closing the door, so that the light should not disturb the 
sleepers. 

He smiled triumphantly as he heard their deep, regular 
breathing, while he coolly set himself about investigating 
their luggage."^^ 

He found nothing there that seemed satisfactory, and so 
turned his attention to their clothing. 

He found two wallets filled with money and drafts; but 
these he put back again, after a careful examination of their 
contents, and without taking anything from them. 

It was evident that money was not the object of his mid- 
night visit. 

At length he found another smaller wallet in the breast- 
pocket of the squiiVs coat. This he took to the light and 
opened. 

It contained a number of papers, which he carefully ex- 
amined, and then laid aside with evident disappointment. 

The last one was in his hand, and he hesitated a moment 
before opening it, as if he dreaded to have his hopes 
blasted by not finding it to be the one he sought. 

At length, with a half-desperate, half-resigned air, he un- 
folded it. 

The instant his eyes caught sight of its contents his whole 
face lighted up with sudden joy. 

It was the long-lo^ and long-searched-for paper! 

^^Ah!^^ he whispered to himself, with a deep sigh of relief. 
‘^H'ow I begin to feel like a man once moreP 

Hastily unfolding it and concealing it about his person, 
he replaced the other papers, and laid the clothing back as 
he had found it. Then picking up the candle, he returned 
as noiselessly to his room as he had come, where after care- 
fully replacing the board he had removed, he had retired to 
bed and slept soundly until morning. 


CHAPTEE XIL 

TEAPPED. 

The day following broke clear, bright and beautiful, and 
at an early hour a vast crowd was assembled in the great 
hall of Institute. 


78 


THHICE WEDDED. 


It was commencement day! That day so dreaded, while 
at the same time it possesses a strange fascination to every 
one who attains the position of a graduate. 

The examination exercises of the few days past liad passed 
off satisfactorily alike to professor and pupil: and now the 
last day of all, the great day, had arrived, that was to give 
to the class of faithful students, the honors they had so 
valiantly battled for, and so bravely won! 

The orations were delivered, the diplomas given, and 
each and all had performed his allotted part except the vale- 
dictorian. 

The band in attendance suddenly sent forth a burst of 
rich triumphant music, as if proclaiming the victory of one 
who had won the first honors through all his college course, 
and who now was about to be crowned victor and con- 
queror! 

The music ceased, and the crowd sat in almost breathless 
silence, awaiting tlie appearance of the hero of the day. 
He came and bowed low and gracefully, was greeted with a 
burst of enthusiastic applause, and — our friend Robert El- 
ler ton stands before us. 

He it is, who by hard labor, and close application, has 
borne off the highest prize, who has taken the first place in 
all his classes, and now stands before an anxiously waiting 
audience, with the first honor of the day, to deliver the vale- 
dictory! 

It is delivered in the German language, and as his voice 
rises clear and deep, fioating over th^ vast assembly, and 
filling every niche and corner of that grand edifice, not a 
movement is made; not a whisper heard; scarcely a breath 
drawn; and as the young orator gradually loses himself in 
his theme, and mounts higher and higher, carrying every 
listener with him, it seems almost as if the hush of death 
was on the air, or as if every living, breathing form of 
a few moments before, had turned to sculptured mar- 
ble! ^ 

Oh, what a tribute is such breathless silence to eloquence! 
Who can ask for more? Who would wish for more? 

For an hour the thrall was upon them, and when our 
hero resumed his seat, shout after shout rose up from the 
throats of the multitude, and rent the air with their bursts 
of approbation and praise. Handkerchiefs were waved, 
and hands were clapped, while a few of the more aristocratic 


TSRIGE WEDDED. 


79 


of the crowd threw bouquets of choice and fragrant hot- 
house flowers at his feet. 

Once he stooped to raise one; and then arose and bowed 
gracefully in acknowledgment of the tribute. 

The bouquet that he raised was the loveliest cluster of 
flowers one ever saw; formed of pure waxen tuberoses and 
heath. 

In vain he looked around to see whence the offering came. 
No one answered his look of inquiry; only his eyes fell upon 
the flushed and lovely face of a young girl, who was sitting 
quietly smiling to herself, while her downcast orbs and 
heightened color, and the tears sparkling upon her long, 
heavy lashes, told that her very soul had been moved by the 
glowing eloquence of the young orator. 

Why did Eobert Ellerton^s heart leap so suddenly and 
fiercely within his bosom as his gaze rested upon the fair 
girl? 

He bent eagerly forward for a better view of her lowely 
features. 

They seemed strangely familiar — strangely like the face of 
one who had long been cherished and enshrined within the 
holy of holies of his heart, and he felt almost sure that 
the elegant floral offering had come from her dainty 
hand. 

He cast his eyes again upon the flowers, and started 
as he saw, coiled between the pure leaves, a little perfumed 
note. 

He quivered in every nerve as he drew it quickly from its 
hiding-place, and unfolded it. 

A cry almost burst from his lips as the words within met 
his gaze. They were simple, chaste, yet breathing 
an intense longing for the one to whom they were ad- 
dressed. 

“Robbie, I am here; I could not stay away. Oh, come and tell me if 
I am welcome. Dora. 

“At the Glenburn House.’’ 

For a moment he sat clasping that precious missive, in a 
trance of motionless delight. He almost feared to move 
lest he should break the spell. His face was pale as marble, 
and he could scarcely credit the evidence of his own senses. 
He feared to raise his eyes lest the vision should have van- 
ished, and he find it all a dream. 


80 


TEBICE WEDDED. 


Poor Eobert! Poor Dora! That moment of hesitation 
was fatal to both! 

Dora timidly raised her eyes to him, while his were bent 
in their riveted gaze upon her note; and his pale, cold look, 
as she interpreted it, struck a chill to her heart, and with a 
look of deep disappointment upon her lovely face, she 
turned with a heavy sigh, to obey her aunt, who called for 
her to go; for the band had ceased its music, and the throng 
was dispersing. 

When Eobert recovered himself, and sprang eagerly 
to his feet to seek his darling, he saw her leaving the 
hall. 

He curbed his disappointment as best he could, though 
still clinging fondly to the precious bouquet, and resolving, 
the moment he was at liberty, to seek her at the Glenburn 
House. 

Other parties had been present to witness Eobert Eller- 
ton^s triumph, and a mad jealousy burned within the hearts 
of both the Ealph Moultons at the well-merited homage he 
received. 

Their eyes had greedily devoured the little by-play of the 
bouquet and the note. And an expression of satisfaction 
gleamed from Ealph^s dark and fiery eyes, as he took in at 
a single glance the position of affairs, and realized how keen 
and fierce would be the agony of his rival, ere the day should 
close. 

Another still had listened, rapt and spell-bound, to the 
thrilling eloquence of the valedictorian, with a heart that 
was well-nigh bursting with pride and affection for the noble 
young man who was his all — his only child! 

Yes, Mr. Ellerton, having been detained by the breaking 
of a part of the carriage in which he was traveling, had 
only arrived just as his son arose from his seat to utter his 
farewell to those with whom he had spent so pleasantly and 
so profitably the past six years. 

Mr. Ellerton looked weary and worn, as if he had missed 
something out of his life during the past six years, and was 
lonely and hungry after a morsel of love. But his thin face 
lighted up with joy and affection as he feasted his eyes upon 
the manly beauty of his son. The rolling years had removed 
every trace of bitterness from his heart, and he was willing 
to concede everything, could he but once again clasp Eobert 
to his breast. 


THRICE WEBBED, 


81 


Poor, mistaKon father, thou didst commit a grave error 
when thou didst banish thine only son from thy love and 
presence. Ay, gaze fondly upon him, as he stands there so 
noble, and so like one inspired! Eevel in his brilliant 
powers and intellect! gloat over him with all thy father's 
fondness, for he is worthy of it. Yet he and thou wiltsuifer 
much of sorrow and misery ere ye shall meet again. And 
ye little, dream that that fond look had nearly been the last! 

But we will return to Kobert. 

He was eagerly pressing his way through the crowd, when 
he felt a light touch upon his arm. 

Looking around, he saw a little fellow neatly and simply 
dressed, who held a note up to him. 

^^Who sent it?" he asked, as he took it from the boy. 

^^A gentleman with white hair," he respectfully answered, 
and which was true, for Ealph had cunningly given the note 
to his uncle to send by the boy. 

W ith a beating heart Eobert hastily tore it open, and read 
the following lines: 

“My Dea.b Son: — 

“I arrived to-day, but not in time to gee you before tbe exercises 
commenced. Come to me at once, for my heart aches to welcome my 
long absent boy to my arms. Come quickly to your impatient father, 

“E^eet Elleeton. 

“The hotels are all full, so I have been obliged toTake up with such 
accommodations as I can get. The bearer of the note will conduct you 
to me. E. E.” 

^‘When was this note given to you?" he asked again, turn- 
ing to the boy, and with a joyous smile upon his fine face. 

^^Just a few minutes since, sir." 

Which w^ay did the gentleman go?" asked Eobert, with 
a sharp glance over the boy. 

will show you, sir," he replied, quickly dropping his 
eyes before Eobert's elear gaze. 

^^What is your name?" pursued our hero, who did not 
like the youngster's looks at all. 

^^Hans Weichel, sir." 

^‘What is yonr father's name?" 

/"Hans Weichel, sir?" 

Eobert smiled at the boy’s concise replies, and said: 

""Well, we will not wait for this crowd to get out; we can 
go out through the chapel." 

And turning, they went through another large rooni^ then 
down some steps, and thus reached the street. 


82 


THRICE WELDED. 


The boy led Eobert away from the town, down toward 
the sea, where there were several little cottages in which 
fishermen lived. They passed these and walked on some 
distance before Eobert noticed where he was going, so 
deeply was he engaged in thought, wondering at his darlings 
unexpected presence that day. 

At length, on looking up, he saw only the vast expanse of 
the sea upon one side of him, and on the other great, rocky 
cliffs, rising high against the sky in somber and majestic 
grandeur; while behind him, nearly half a mile distant, was 
t^he town, and the great buildings of the institute. 

Turning suddenly to his guide, he said, sternly: 

^ ‘Where are you leading me?^^ 

‘^We are most there, answered the boy, somewhat con- 
fusedly. ^^Just beyond that clump of trees is the house.^^ 

^‘Are you sure the gentleman told you to come to this 
place?’^ pursued Eobert, somewhat suspiciously. 

^‘Yes, sir; he said he did not like noise, and wanted to be 
where he could see the ocean, and be quiet, replied young 
Hans, with evident truth. 

Eobert knew his father could not bear confusion, and, that 
he loved the sea, though he could not help wondering that 
he should choose such a very remote abode, and rather an 
unsafe one, too, for there were reports abroad that a band 
of smugglers was concealed somewhere about the ledge of 
rocks, which they were gradually approaching. 

However, he continued to follow the boy, and soon came 
in sight of a neat little cottage, painted white, and both 
quickening their steps, soon arrived before the door. 

The boy gave three sharp raps upon it, and it was im- 
mediately opened by a rough-looking man, who bade them 
en ter. 

Eobert’s suspicions were now fully aroused, and he de- 
manded if a man by the name of Ellerton was waiting for 
him there. 

The man replied that there was, and Eobert, with a rather 
doubtful air, entered. 

In an instant the door was shut and barred, A heavy 
hand was laid upon his shoulder, while a pistol covered his 
heart, and the same rough voice said: 

^‘Make the least disturbance, and you are a dead man." 

'^What means this violence, villain?" demanded Eobert4 
thoroughly alarmedt 


TmiCE WEDDE3. SS 

means that you are my prisoner/^ 

‘‘For what otfense?^^ 

“Oh, you will know all in good time, my proud youngster, 
replied Hans Weichel, senior, with a coarse laugh. 

“If it is my money or watch you want, you are welcome 
to them, only do not detain me, for my friends are anx- 
iously waiting for me,^^ said Kobert, thinking he could 
bribe the man. 

“Not quite so fast, my young lark; I care nothing for 
your purse or baubles, but you are not to see your friends at 
present. 

“Why, I demand to know?” 

“Why? Oh, because one of your very particular friends 
forbids it,” replied Hans, again laughing disagreeably. 

“Take that, then, for your insolence, you rascal,” shouted 
Eobert, suddenly dealing the man a heavy blow upon the 
temple. 

He fell to the floor with a groan, then quick as lightning 
Eobert turned to unfasten the door to escape. 

Before he could draw the bolt, his arms were pinioned 
from behind, while at the same moment a heavy cloak was 
thrown over his head, completely blinding him and smoth- 
ering his cries. 

It was done so quietly and quickly that he was amazed, 
for he had supposed there were no others in the house, 
though now he heard several voices; but all spoke in low 
tones. 

He was borne through the house, then down some steps. 
And now he heard some one stamp three times upon the 
ground. Immediately there was a grating sound, as if a 
heavy door was swinging upon its hinges. He was then 
borne within what seemed to be an underground passage, 
for he felt the air cool and damp, even through the fold of 
the heavy cloak, and he shuddered, for he was now convinced 
that he was in the hands of the smugglers, though for 
what purpose he could not conceive. He did not know that 
he had an enemy in all Germany, and the words of the 
rough brute who met him at the door were a mystery to 
him. 

After proceeding through the several passages, and what 
appeared to be jecret doors, he was at length set down, and 
the cloak removed from his head. 

A flash of dazzling light blinded him for a moment, but 


84 THRICE WEEDED, 

when he opened his eyes again, he looked around him in 
utter amazement. 

He found himself in one of the richest and most gor- 
geous apartments he had ever entered in his life; in fact, the 
whole room was one bower of beauty and luxury, like unto 
a very modern palace. 

At one end of the room stood a magnificent piano; also a 
harp of gold set with pearls. 

The ceiling, as our hero glanced above, was dazzling as 
the sun, from which chandeliers of gold, crystal, and bronze 
hung suspended. 

The man who had brought him to this fairy bower had 
unbound him immediately upon entering, and then disap- 
peared, uttering no w^ord of explanation, neither seeming to 
have any fear about leaving him alone. 

He had not finished the inspection of his surroundings 
when the heavy tapestry suddenly parted near him, and a 
boy, clad as a page, entered^ bearing a silver tray, upon 
which a most tempting repast was arranged. 

This he placed upon a small table, and then wheeled it in 
front of Robert, after which he went and stood behind his 
chair, waiting to obey his slightest wish. 

Despite his wonder at this strange adventure, he was 
very faint, and set himself to eat the savory viands with the 
keenest relish. There were fragrant coffee and choice wines, 
and luxurious fruits, which, added to the more substantial 
viands, made a meal a royal prince might envy. 

Again the heavy tapestry parted, and a lovely girl, clothed 
in heavy white silk and gauzy lace, looped with scarlet 
trimmings, entered, and, seating herself gracefully at the 
piano, made the grand room echo again and again with 
the sweetest music. 

Was he dreaming a fairy dream? Or had some knavish 
sprite — a ^^Puck^^ perchance — bewitched his eyes, that he 
should see such marvelous sights, and deem them reality. 

He questioned the page; but he might have been a breath- 
less statue, for all the reply he got was a cold, calm glance 
from a pair of pale blue eyes. 

He finished his meal, convinced that the mystery must 
remain a mystery still, and the page bore away the tray, 
while at the same time the lovely nymph at the piano glided 
as noiselessly away as she had come. 

Soon another page entered, and bade Robert follow him. 


TMRIGE WEDDED, 


86 


He could but obey; besides, his curiosity was excited to ex- 
plore still farther this underground palace, with its beau- 
teous maidens, secret passages, and elegant appointments. 

The youth led him through spacious halls, hung like the 
room he had just left, with tapestry, and lighted by chan- 
deliers of strange forms and devices, until at length stop- 
ping, he parted some rich and heavy curtains, and bade our 
hero enter. 

The page then turned and disappeared. 

Robert found himself in a chamber scarcely less elegant 
than the room he had just left. A luxurious bed stood at 
one side, and was hung with curtains of white silk, looped 
with cord and tassels of gold. 

The room contained everything that the most fastidious 
could desire, either for comfort or luxury. Books, richly 
bound, were scattered in profusion upon a marble table, and 
it being early in the evening, Robert amused himself an hour 
or two with these, and then retired to rest; and being much 
fatigued with the eJBforts of the day, he slept soundly until 
morning. 


CHAPTER XIIL 

CONSPIRACY. 

The next morning Robert arose, and found a perfumed 
bath and all the dainty appointments of a toilet awaiting 
him. After performing his ablutions, and dressing him- 
self with great care, he sat down to await a summons to the 
morning meal. 

Almost immediately a page appeared, and conducted him 
into a room hung with green and gilt, where a table, spread 
for two, contained an inviting repast served upon dishes of 
silver. 

The page conducted Robert to a seat, and then placed 
himself, as the other had done, behind his chair. 

Presently another man entered, likewise followed by a 
page. 

He was a tall and well-formed man, and fine-looking, 
though his face was somewhat bronzed, and his beard was 
long, black, and very heavy, giving him a rather fierce ex- 
pression. 

He was clad in a suit of rich green velvet, ornamented 


THRICE WEEDED. 


$6 

with gold lace and seed pearls; while at his side there himg 
an elegant dagger, whose golden handle was brilliantly or- 
namented with jewels. 

He greeted Eobert in a very gentlemanly manner as he 
seated himself opposite him. Our hero returned the bow, 
without at all losing his self-possession. 

He felt assured that he was in the presence of the chief of 
the band of smugglers. 

And he was right. 

‘‘Did you rest well, Mr. Ellerton?^^ asked the chief, as he 
filled a plate with the good things spread before them and 
passed it to Robert. 

‘^Very well, indeed, sir/^ he replied, courteously; ^^butyou 
have the advantage of me, for I cannot call you by name.^^ 

^^Weilman Weichel, at your service, and brother of the 
man whom you saluted with such warmth on entering his 
cottage yesterday, replied the chief, with a smile, and 
bowing low. 

^Twas but in self-defense, Herr Weichel,^^ returned our 
hero, a shade of uneasiness crossing his face at the remem- 
brance of the severe blow he had given the villain. 

^‘Nay, do not be alarmed, my friend; I know it,^^ said 
Weichel, remarking the look. but honor you the more 
for the courage and bravery you displayed; and I assure you 
Hans himself bears you no ill will. We are a class of people 
who admire courage, be it in friend or foe.^^ 

^^Have the goodness to answer a question, Herr Weichel. 
Why am I brought like a prisoner to this place, and yet 
treated in a manner of wdiich a prince could not corn- 
plain?^^ 

The chief smiled at this off-hand compliment, and then 
replied: 

^^Tis true, you are my prisoner, or rather, let me say 
guest, and as such you must remain for a few weeks. I ad- 
mit it is no personal feeling that causes me to retain you as 
such; you have never injured me or mine, and, indeed, I 
respect you highly, for I know who you are, and the high 
position you have always held during the few years you have 
been in our country. But I will be candid with you. I am 
to have fifty thousand dollars if you remain here six weeks, 
and that is a sum I should like to possess. I trust, however, 
that you will not feel like a prisoner, and I pledge myself 
that you shall be entertained to the best of my ability. 


THRICE WEDDED, 


87 


Everything you wish you have but to name, and it shall be 
granted/^ 

thank you, chief, for your kindness and hospitality, but 
I have only one desire at present, and that is my liberty. I 
am rich, or at least, my father is. He is now in this village, 
and I promise you that I will give you a check for fifty 
thousand dollars — the same sum that you have been promised 
for detaining me here — as soon as you place me in his 
presence.^' 

^‘Your offer is very generous, Mr. Ellerton,'^ said the 
chief, after a few moments^ deliberation, ^^but I cannot ac- 
cept it. My word is pledged to another, and no amount 
could tempt me to break that.^^ 

‘^My friends will surely institute a thorough search for 
me, and thus your retreat may be discovered, and yourselves 
routed, perhaps arrested, returned Kobert, deeply cha- 
grined and disappointed that the smuggler refused to set 
him at liberty. 

A sneer half-curled the lip of the chief, but quickly re- 
pressing it, he politely replied : 

have no fears, my friend, on that score ; for our for- 
tress is of solid rock, with no crack or crevice to beti’ay that 
there is aught within. Only those who are perfectly fa- 
miliar with our secret openings can ever enter these vaults. 
There is but one in the wide world outside of our band, who 
has an inkling even of their existence ; and he is not now 
in the country. He learned it through the carelessness of 
one of our pages ; but I have no fear that he will ever 
trouble us.^^ 

^^Who are the instigators of this foul wrong?^’ demanded 
Kobert, hotly, hardly heeding the latter part of the chief^s 
speech. 

‘'That, also, I cannot reveal to you. You doubtless 
realize they are enemies, he returned, not at all disturbed 
by Kobert^s passion. 

"Well, then, will you tell me the motive which actuates it?'^ 

The chief did not reply at once. He sat absently sipping 
his coffee for a few minutes; then suddenly waving the 
pages from the room, he bent toward his guest, and said, in 
a low tone: 

"A person has discovered that you are not the legitimate 
son of your father — that he was married to another woman 
before he ever saw your mother. That woman he forsook. 


88 


THHICE WEDDED. 


believing the marriage only a farce, and wedded your mother. 
The first marriage has been proved legal, and a friend of 
the first wife is now on your father^s track, with the right- 
ful son, to make him acknowledge him. They thought 
there would be less trouble about the matter if you were 
out of the way, and that is one reason why you are here.^^ 

*Tt is false, every word of it!’"’ burst in indignant amaze- 
ment from KoberVs pale and quivering lips, while the per- 
spiration started from every pore. 

He arose and paced the floor, in mingled grief, mortiflca- 
tion, and rage, at the stain thus cast upon his name — the 
name which he had always been taught to believe was 
spotless. 

He would not believe it; for did it not blast every hope 
that he had cherished from his boyhood up to the present 
time? He could not claim Dora if it were true! He had 
no right to her; for he had no name to give her. His heart 
almost withered within him at the thought, and even the 
chief cast looks of pity upon his white, agonized face, as he 
sank, with a despairing cry, into a chair and bowed his head 
upon his hands. 

^Ht is all a base conspiracyP^ 

^ ‘False or true,^^ resumed the other, ^That is what I have 
been informed is the fact. But that is not the principal 
reason why you are confined here.'^^ 

^'Then for Heaven^s sake tell me what it is, or I shall go 
mad,^^ groaned Eobert. 

young man has become very much enamored of a 
young lady, and wishes to marry her; but he says you 
imagine you have a prior claim upon her — some foolish 
childish ceremony or betrothal, and that if you were allowed 
to remain at liberty it would interrupt all his plans with 
reference to her. When they are united, then you are to 
have your freedom.^^ 

^‘Tell me the name of this fiend in human form, whose 
brain but plans ruin for fellow-mortals. Tell me! I will 
know itP^ 

Eobert sprang fiercely to his feet and confronted his 
captor with clenched hands. The veins upon his forehead 
were hard and knotted. Like a hero of the ancient times, 
every nerve trembled, every muscle was on the stretch; rage 
and contempt, hate and revenge were in all his featuresj 


mnm wedded. S9 

and for a moment Weilman Weichel dropped his eyes in 
confusion. 

^‘Tell me/^ repeated Eobert, huskily, ^^for by all the gods, 
the villain whoever he is, shall dearly pay for this!^^ 

cannot, Herr Eller ton; and I beg you will calm your- 
self. This passion is of no earthly use,^^ the chief coldly 
replied. 

^ ^Heavens! what a conspiracy I am the victim of, and not 
to know who my enemies are! To be struck by a hidden 
foe is worse than all else; let them but come to open war- 
fare, and equal combat, and I will battle to the death! 
Chief, I tell you, you are as vile as they, with your com- 
plicity in the affair. 

* ^Agreed, my friend,'^ returned the ruffian, smiling com- 
placently, though not in the least ruffled at Eobert's ravings 
and revilings. do not profess to be at all saintly you 
know; but I do assure you that I am very fond of money, 
and so have made up my mind to see this thing through. 

^ ‘Money repeated Eobert, bitterly. ^‘Sell your soul for 
a few paltry dollars, and wreck the happiness of two loving, 
trusting hearts. 

After a few moments spent in troubled thought, while he 
paced to and fro, Eobert suddenly halted and said: 

^^Weilman Weichel, I will pledge you a hundred thousand 
dollars if you will set me free — nay, do not refuse until you 
hear my story !^^ 

He then related the history of his whole life, up to the 
present time, and ended by showing the chief the note he 
had received from Dora the day before. 

The chief appeared to be convinced of the truth of the 
story, and started violently when Eobert spoke the name of 
Squire Moulton. He hesitated a long time before he re- 
plied. He evidently coveted the great sum that Eobert 
offered him, but he finally replied in a cold, hard tone: 

told you before, young man, that my word w^as 
pledged, and that no amount of money could tempt me to 
break it.^^ 

The chieftain withdrew, and Eobert was left alone. In a 
few moments a page appeared. He conducted the unhappy 
young man to the chamber allotted to his use. Eobert 
threw himself upon the couch, and utterly exhausted with 
his passionate emotions, fell into a sound slumber, which 
lasted many hours. 


so mitICE WEDDED. 


CHAPTER XIV, 

DORANS GRIEF. 

Madame Alroyd and Dora, on leaving the institute, drove 
rapidly back to the Glenburn House, where^they had an ele- 
gant suite of rooms. 

Madam was in ecstasies over the young orator — the more 
so, because he was one of her own countrymen, and had 
borne off the palm in the face of all the natives. 

She kept up an incessant chattering during the drive, ex- 
tolling his eloquence, praising his manly beauty and ele- 
gant manners, and ended by declaring that they must man- 
age some way to get acquainted with him. 

Dora, on the contrary, sat silent and sad, scarcely heed- 
ing her aunt’s many expressions of delight. She was 
wounded to her hearths core that Robert had not given her 
a smile of recognition, n n even a glance of his eye, to show 
that he was glad she had been present to witness his tri- 
umph. 

His pale, cold look haunted her. Perhaps he thought her 
unmaidenly — wanting in womanly delicacy, to thus force 
herself unasked upon his presence and notice; and her 
delicate cheek burned with shame and mortification as the 
thought presented itself to her. 

She wished now that she had given heed to her aunt, who 
had tried to persuade her not to come. But from the mo- 
ment she heard when the exercises were to take place, her 
heart had been set upon it; and although Madame Alroyd 
deemed it a wild, unaccountable freak of Dorans to break in 
upon their pleasure trip and go so far out of their way, she 
at length yielded the point, as she always did, to gratify 
every wish of her darling. 

^'What is the matter with my pet?^’ she said, when they 
had removed their outer wrappings, and she noticed for the 
first time Dora’s sad face. ‘^Were you not pleased with our 
countryman’s valedictory? But I need not ask you that, 
for your face was radiant during the whole of it, and I be- 
gan to fear that, at last, my little girl had lost her heart. 
And no wonder, for I almost wished myself young again, if 
only for the privilege of trying to win the heart of our 
handsome hero of to-day. Eh, Dora?’^ 


THRICE WEDDED, 


di 

Ana madam laughed at what she considered a very bright 
saying. 

A vivid blush spread itself over Dora's fair face at this 
sally, which, upon noticing, Madame Alroyd laughed again, 
and exclaimed: 

^^Ah! that^s it, is it? Surely I had not given myself 
credit for quite so much shrewdness.^^ 

Poor Dora could bear no more, but burst into a flood 
of tears. 

Her heart w^as full, well-nigh to bursting, and she longed 
to unburden her mind that she might gain sympathy and 
comfort. She had kept her secret thus far sacred; but its 
weight was getting too heavy for her to bear alone. 

Still she dreaded to reveal it, lest she should displease her 
aunt, who, she knew, was hoping great things for her in the 
future. 

^'What is it, my darling? Have I wounded you so deeply? 
Forgive me; I was only rallying you on your somber looks. 

Her darling’s tears alarmed her; and, going to Dora, she 
took her in her arms, and fondly kissed away the bright 
drops as they fell. 

For a few minutes Dora could not answer, for her sobs. 

But at length she suddenly sat up, and wiping her eyes, 
said earnestly, looking her aunt in the face: 

^^Auntie, am I very much changed since you took me to 
live with you?” 

^^Yes, dear, I think you are a good deal changed about 
many things; still you have many of your girlish ways and 
looks about you even now. You are Dora yet, but with 
considerable development, and a good deal of polish added. 
But why do you ask me such a question, my love?” 

^ ^Becau se — becau se ” 

She hesitated a moment, deeply confused, then went on. 

^‘Do you think if a friend had* not seen me for six years, 
he would know me now?” 

^^What do you mean, Dora? Did you ever know Mr. El- 
lerton when he was a boy?” asked madam, suddenly, a 
light breaking in upon her mind, and half explaining 
Dora’s sadness. 

‘^Answer me, please, auntie, and then I will tell you what 
I mean,” pleaded Dora, earnestly, her cheeks taking a still 
deeper hue. 

can’t say confidently whether he would recognize you 


92 


THRICE WEBBED. 


or not/^ she said, answering her question. ^^He might 
think there was something familiar about you, and yet see- 
ing you in such a crowd, not feel confident you were the 
same person. You may have changed more to other eyes 
than to mine you know. But what has that to do with your 
tears, my pet?^^ 

^^One more question, auntie, first/^ persisted Dora, turn- 
ing away her burning face from madam^s piercing gaze. 
^^Did you notice Mr. Ellerton when he picked up my bou- 
quet 

‘^Yes, dear,^^ replied her aunt, starting violently, and be- 
coming more and more convinced that the two were old 
friends. She went on. 

‘‘He gazed very earnestly at you for a few moments. He 
then turned his look upon the flowers again, and suddenly 
became very pale and abstracted. I looked at you then, and 
your eyes were downcast, while I thought you looked con- 
fused, about a very little thing — if throwing a bouquet could 
make you lose your self-possession.^^ 

“It wasn^t that, auntie, returned Dora, desperately. “I 
— I — put a note in that bouquet. 

“Dora — Dora Dupont!"^ cried Madame Alroyd, in a voice 
of amazement, and lifting her hands in horror. “You 
don't mean to tell me that you did such an indelicate thing 
as that! I don't wonder now at his strange looks. Did you 
ever know that young man before?" 

“Yes, auntie," replied her niece, in a low, clear voice. 
“Eobert Ellerton is my husband!" 

“What!" shrieked the old lady, bounding from her seat 
like an India rubber ball, and gazing upon Dora as if she 
thought she was demented. 

“It is true, auntie," said she, sadly, “and the note I put 
among my flowers was to tell him I was here, and asking 
him to come to me." 

“Is the child crazy? I believe you are. Oh, I wish we 
had never come here now. For pity's sake tell me what you 
mean, child!" she muttered wildly, while she walked the 
floor with a woeful face and wrung her hands. 

“Sit down, auntie, and be quiet, and I will tell you all 
about it," replied Dora, calmly; intensely relieved that her 
secret was out, and a secret no longer. 

She led Madame Alroyd to an easy-chair, then bringing 
a footstool she sat down at her feet. She laid her head 


THKICE WEDDED. 


93 


lovingly in her lap, and then repeated the story of her mar- 
riage, her love for Kobert, how it had grown with her 
growth, and strengthened with her strength. And this was 
the reason why she had persisted in coming to be present at 
his graduation. 

She showed her the locket, which she had always worn 
next to her heart, and Madame Alroyd felt, as she gazed upon 
the honest and handsome face of our hero, that treachery 
or fickleness could not lurk in the heart of one who pos- 
sessed such truthful eyes, and such a frank, open counte- 
nance. 

She had listened in speechless amazement to the strange 
tale, and when Dora finished, she asked in a husky voice: 

^^Why have you never told me this before, Dora?^^ 

didn^’t dare to, auntie. I feared to displease you, and 
above all, I feared to be ridiculed about it. I thought you 
would say just as everybody else did, who knew it, that fit 
was a foolish, childish affair,^ and try to persuade me to 
consent to a separation. 

Dora buried her burning face in the folds of madam^s 
dress, and sobbed afresh. 

Her aunt laid her hand fondly upon that golden-crowned 
head, and stroked it tenderly, while she sat for a few min- 
utes in deep and troubled thought. At last she said: 

‘^And do you love him now, darling, well enough to con- 
sider yourself bound to him for life?^^ 

^‘Oh! yes, auntie, only — I am afraid he has forgotten his 
love for me.^^ 

And again the tears poured forth. 

^^Why, love?^^ asked madam. 

^ ‘Because,^' she replied, when she could control her voice, 
^^when I looked up after he found the note, he sat pale and 
cold as a marble statue. You say you saw it too. I hoped 
he would at least give me one look of remembrance; but no, 
he did not, and my heart sank like lead in my bosom. Just 
then you called me, and I did not dare to look again. I felt 
so ashamed and grieved. 

^^What did you write, darling 

Dora repeated word for word what she had written. 

^‘There was nothing that you need feel at all ashamed of; 
and if he is true to you, he will seek you the first moment 
he is at liberty. And I don^t believe a man with such a face 
could be untrue r 


94 


THRICE WEBBER. 


^^Bless yon, auntie!’^ exclaimed Dora, giving her a little 
hug, ^‘you make me very happy by saying so/^ 

^‘Perhaps,^^ resumed madam, ^‘he was so taken by sur- 
prise that he could not believe it at first, and if you had 
looked at him again you might have come away with a hap- 
pier heart/^ 

Truly she was a ^^shrewd one at guessing, for she could 
not know how nearly the truth she came! 

^‘Doyou really think so?’^ asked Dora, eagerly, the bright 
look coming again to her eyes. 

hope that may be the truth of it,^^ replied her aunt, 
thoughtfully. ‘‘But if it should not — nay, darling, try to 
look at it bravely,^^ she added, as Dora shuddered, and ut- 
tered a little moan. “If you should discover that, during 
the long years of hard study, his heart should have forgotten 
its allegiance to the little girl whom he married upon the 
impulse of a moment— or if, perchance, some German 
beauty has usurped your place, I know it would be hard, but 
it is best to look at the matter calmly — would you — could 
you desire to force yourself upon him as his wife'^^' 

“Never! I would let my heart break — I would die first 
exclaimed Dora, with glittering eyes and heaving bosom. 
“But, oh!^^ she added, a moment after, with quivering lips, 
“I cannot believe anything so dreadful of Bobbie. I feel 
that he is true. I could almost say 1 1c7ioio he is.^^ 

“AhT’ replied Madame Alroyd, smiling at her returning 
trust, and patting her tenderly upon the cheek. 

“Ah, could he see you now, your faith alone would win 
him. We will hope the best of your hero, and try to wait 
with patience his coming. And so my pet could not trust 
the old woman with her secret?’^ 

“No, it was 7iot I could not trust you. I could not bear 
to have my love made light of.^^ 

“Ah, you did not know that this old and withered heart 
was once as trusting and fresh as your own. But we will 
not talk of that now,^^ she said, with a sigh; then added, 
softly, “My own darling, I love you too dearly to ever make 
light of anything which you consider sacred; so donT ever 
shut me out in the cold again. 

Dora threw her arms around her aunt^s neck, and said, 
while she rained kisses upon her wrinkled face: 

“You are the best and dearest auntie in the whole world, 
p.nd I love you — almost as well as I do somebody else,^' 


TUnici! WEbbSD. 


Madame Alroyd lovingly returned her embrace, while at 
the same time she slyly wiped a tear from her eye. 

The dressing-bell for dinner now rang, and both hastened 
to make their toilets; while Dorans heart was relieved of half 
its burden by the blessed influence of love and sympathy. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

THE FORGED LETTER. 

In direct contradiction to the note which Eobert received, 
Mr. Ellerton bent his steps toward .the Glenburn House, 
where, despite the crowd of visitors, he had managed to ob- 
tain rooms. 

He sought in vain for his son among the throng that 
poured out from the institute. He then found one of the 
professors and asked him to send Eobert to him, if he should 
find him. 

The professor had politely told him that he would send 
to his boarding-place, and inform him of his father^s arrival, 
which he did, and with what success future chapters will 
show. 

Thanking him for his kindness, Mr. Ellerton then re- 
turned to the hotel, where he waited with ill-disguised 
impatience for EoberPs appearance. 

At the dinner-table Madame Alroyd and Dora sat directly 
opposite Mr. Ellerton; and as his eyes fell upon the graceful 
and familiar beauty of our heroine, he started violently, and 
during the whole meal intently studied her features. 

Dora had recognized him at a glance, and all her old 
anger toward him revived instantly. For she could not for- 
get how bitterly he had opposed EoberPs love for her, nor 
the sarcastic insinuations he had cast at her mother. 

She wondered why Eobert was not with his father, if 
they had seen each other at all. She wondered also if he 
had fully forgiven his father for his former harshness and 
ill-treatment, and if Mr. Ellerton was as cross and unyield- 
ing as ever. 

She glanced up furtively at him, as her thoughts reached 
this crisis, and caught his eye fastened earnestly and 
thoughtfully upon her. 

Her own dropped instantly, and with almost a guilty feel- 
ing; for she felt as if he must have read her thoughts, so 
searching had been his glance. 


90 


TBmCE WEDDED. 


She thanked the fates fervently that just at this moment 
her aunt finished her meal^ and arose to leave the table. She 
felt that a pair of eyes were following her the whole length 
of the room, and she was ill at ease until the door closed 
upon them. 

^^Who were those two ladies who just left the room?’^ 
asked Mr. Ellerton of a gentleman who sat at his right hand, 
and with whom he had been having some previous conversa- 
tion. 

^^Madame Alroyd and Miss Dora Dupont, her niece. They 
are from your own country, sir, I have been told,^^ replied 
his companion. 

Mr. Ellerton puckered up his mouth very much as if he 
were going to whistle, while he muttered to himself: 

^^Well, I doiiT wonder the little beauty looked at me, as if 
she thought I was an old bear. She must have known me; 
and now 1 know where I have seen those great, deep blue 
eyes before. 

“^Do you know anything about them he asked, aloud. 

“Only by report/"’ replied his neighbor. “That says that 
the old lady is as rich as Croesus, and has adopted the young 
lady who is her niece. They are making a tour for pleasure 
of this country. They say the little beauty is turning 
all the young men crazy. 

“Is she? That^s a pity, for I have my doubts about any 
of them getting her/^ remarked Mr. Ellerton, dryly. 

“I doi/t know about that. I sat beside her to-day in the 
institute, and I began to think that one young man had 
turned her head; for she scarce breathed all through Eller- 
ton^s valedictory; and when he finished she threw him a 
lovely bouquet, and which you might have seen in his hand 
afterward. She’s a dainty little craft, anyhow — don’t you 
think so?” 

“Urn — well, yes — rather,” replied Mr. Ellerton, smiling 
at his companion’s volubility, and rather enjoying this bit of 
gossip about his son. Then to himself he added, “I guess 
I shall have to look into this matter a little. Eich, is she? 
well, I won’t mind so much about his having her now. I’ll 
cultivate their acquaintance immediately, and try to get the 
little one to like me if I can.” 

With which complacent refiections he arose and left the 
table. 

As Madame Alroyd and Dora were passing up the stairs to 


THRICE WEDDED. 


97 


their rooms, a servant met them and handed the latter a 
note. 

She glanced at the handwriting, and in an instant flushed 
crimson, then turned pale as the pure lilies which hung from 
her hair, and lay against her soft cheek. 

Passing swiftly to her room, with the note clasped in both 
her hands over her beating heart, she sank breathless upon 
a sofa, quivering in every nerve. The writing was Roberts, 
and she felt that that white folded missive had power to seal 
her happiness or plunge her into the depths of woe. 

Madame Alroyd took in at a glance the cause of her emo- 
tion, and so remained silent until her niece should recover 
herself sufficiently to read the note. 

She had not long to wait, for soon Dora tore it eagerly 
open and read it through, her white face blanching to the 
hue of death, until at the last word she fell with a moan of 
anguish to the floor. 

Her aunt sprang quickly to her side, and, seizing the 
fatal missive, flashed her eyes swiftly over it, for she felt 
she had a perfect right to know its contents. 

^^Dastard! cowardly villain burst fiercely from her 
firmly compressed lips at its close. Then ringing a furious 
peal for her maid, she gathered the unconscious girl tender- 
ly in her arms, and moaned, ^*My poor stricken lamb, it is 
cruel, cruel to crush your young heart thus.^^ 

The maid came in, and together they raised her and laid 
her gently upon a sofa, and applied restoratives. 

Could Ralph Moulton have seen her then, methinks even 
his cruel heart would have failed him at the sight of that 
white, rigid face, and he would have been glad to give the 
lovers back to each other to have seen those lovely eyes again 
unclose, and that breathless bosom heave again. 

His diabolical plan had worked well, for the note ran 
thus: 

“Doea: — 

“For I cannot say my dear Dora — I feel as if I have forfeited all right 
to name you thus — your note, so deftly concealed in your lovely tribute 
to-day, causes me more suffering than I like to oWn, for it shows me 
how fully and faithfully you have trusted in me all these years; when 

I . Well, I thought when I last saw you, that I, too, should be 

true, and that nothing could ever change my affection for you. But 
how changeable is life! I will be frank with you, however, and trust 
to your kindness of heart to release me from all bonds that have united 
us in the past. I have recently met a young and lovely maiden, with- 


98 


THRICE WEDDED. 


out whom life to me would be utterly wretched. Could you see heif, 
you would not blame me that I wish to w^d her. And now I have 
one request to laake, and then I bid you farewell forever, and hope 
that you may yet attain earth’s highest happiness. Will you consent 
that the bonds which unite us be annulled? I feel that I have not the 
courage to meet you, and when you receive this I shall be far away. I 
have written to my father the cause of my absence, and if you will 
sign the paper which he will present you, you will render deeply grate- 
ful one who has done you great wrong, and who earnestly wishes 
to be forgiven. 

“Yours, with deep repentance, Egbert Elberton.” 

For an hour Dora lay in a fearful swoon, and Madame 
Alroyd was nearly distracted with the fear that her darling 
would die. She sliowered the bitterest reproaches her heart 
could invent upon the author of all this sorrow and suffer- 
ing. She blamed herself, again and again, for being over- 
persuaded to come to that ^diorrible place. But Dorans 
health was good, and her constitution firm and strong, and 
she finally opened her eyes and gazed wildly upon her aunt 
and maid, who hung so anxiously over her. 

At first she could not realize why she was lying upon the 
sofa, so weak and languid, but presently the remembrance 
came to her, and she closed her eyes again wearily, with a low, 
helpless moan. 

^ ‘There, darling, you are better now; drink this, and it 
will give you new strength, said her aunt, putting some 
wine to her lips. 

She obeyed, and the color soon began to tinge her pale 
lips again. 

Madame Alroyd bent tenderly over her and pressed a kiss 
upon her pure brow, 

^‘Have courage, my precious pet,^^ she whispered. ^^Show 
your brave little heart now. You are all that poor old 
auntie has got, and must try and live for her.-’^ 

“Do you know — did you read? she gasped, a look of stony 
agony in her deep eyes. 

“Yes, love; I knew I might; and, oh, darling, this poor 
old withered heart has suffered, too. I know how it feels, 
and the sting is there yet. The thorn is left, if the rose is 
faded and dead.^' 

And poor, sympathizing Madame Alroyd took the pale, 
crushed lily in her arms, and sobbed as if the sweetness of 
her own life had been just crushed out, instead of years and 
years ago. 

And Dora cried, too; the tears came like a flood, and they 


THRICE WEDDED. 


99 


did her good, though she felt as if life held no joy for her 
now. But she would live as happily as she could for her dear 
aunt^s sake, who had made her life so happy the past six 
years. 

She passed her night of sorrow alone, and when morning 
came she rose up calm and proud, and pale and cold as an 
iceberg. Not another tear did Madame Alrovd see, not an- 
other sob did she hear. Dorans heart might have been im- 
pregnable marble, after that first wild burst of sorrow, for 
any outward appearance of grief. 

No queen could have borne herself more proudly and 
coldly at the offense of some criminal, than did Dora Du- 
pont after she believed that she w^as forsaken; and her aunt 
being a woman of the world, exulted at the spirit she showed, 
while in her secret heart she wondered at her powers of en- 
durance. 


CHAPTER XVL 

SIGNING AN AGREEMENT. 

Madame Alroyd and her niece were sitting quietly in their 
room, the morning after the reception of that fatal note. 

Both were trying to busy themselves about some light fancy 
work, to drive away the agony that was tugging so fiercely 
at their heart-strings, and failing most miserably, as their 
white, wan faces plainly showed. 

Not a word was spoken about Robert’s faithlessness; only 
when they met that morning, madam had taken Dora ten- 
derly in her arms, kissed her, and murmured some loving 
and soothing words of fohdness, and calling her by all the 
pet names she had at her command. But Dora gently with- 
drew from her aunt’s fond embrace, with a low, ^‘Please 
don’t, auntie!’' while her face grew a shade paler, and she 
caught her breath convulsively. 

So the subject was dropped, for madam knew she could 
bear it better if let alone, and so she said no more, and Dora 
subsided into her icy calmness again. 

All through that day her aunt kept regarding her with 
wonder, for Dora had always been a creature of impulse, and 
now she was like a block of marble, so hard and cold; and 
she more than once found herself repeating these words of 
Thomas Hood: 


100 


THBIGE WEBBED. 


‘‘Fair is she as the dreams young poets weave — 

Bright eyes, and dainty lips, and tresses curly — 

In outward loveliness a child of Eve, 

But cold as nymph of Lurley!” 

A slight com motion , in the hall attracted their attention, 
toward the middle of the forenoon. 

There were steps going back and forth, and anxious, 
troubled whispers; then the voices grew to muttering, and 
then louder, till the ladies sitting so quietly in their room 
could hear quite plainly what was said, and Dora instantly 
recognized the voice of Mr. Bllerton; the other one she did 
not know. 

^Tt is the strangest thing, she heard Robertas father say, 

ever knew the boy to do! It doesnT seem like Robert at 
all! He never was a coward about anything when he was 
at home, and I canT understand his showing the white 
feather now. Besides, the letter doesnT read like him; it is 
too precise and constrained.^^ 

^^But you say the writing is his?^^ asked the other voice. 

^‘Yes, as near as I can tell. You know I have not seen 
much of it for the last six years. I will show it to you; you 
can judge better than I, as you have probably seen more of 
it.^" 

There was a rustling, as if some one was unfolding a let- 
ter, then a moment of quiet, and the strange voice again 
said: 

^Ht certainly looks like his hand, though perhaps a little 
straggling, as if written in a hurry. But I canuot under- 
stand why he should do such a dishonorable thing. As you 
say, it is not in the least like him. I have always had the- 
greatest respect for him, thinking him one of the most 
noble and manly young men I ever met with.^^ 

^‘Did you have any idea of his having formed another at- 
tachment in this place?^^ asked Mr. Ellerton, with a deep 
sigh. 

‘^^Ko; and that is what puzzles me. But there is his own 
word for it in black and white; and can we doubt it? I am 
deeply disappointed — deeply and the unhappy father^s 
sigh was echoed from the breast of the other. 

^Tt is very strange; for when he left home neither coaxing 
nor threats would move him an inch. He was thoroughly 
bewitched; and I did not think he was one that would 
change/^ 


THRICE WEDDED. 


101 


^^Did I understand you to say that this same young lady 
was present yesterday to witness his honors 

^‘Yes; and I must say I as deeply regret the termination 
of this affair as I was opposed to it in the beginning/^ 

^‘May I ask the young lady^s name?^^ 

^^Miss Dora Dupont 

Dora waited to hear no more, but, with flashing eyes and 
form drawn haughtily erect, she walked proudly to the door 
and threw it open, and stood confronting the astonished 
gentlemen. 

Mr. Ellerton started violently, and the hot blood rushed 
to his very brow as he realized how inconsiderate he had 
been in choosing the corridor in which to reveal his troubles 
to the professor. But he had met him at the head of the 
stairs as he was about descending, and almost unconsciously 
they had turned back into the hall to converse. 

The little German professor gazed upon our enraged but 
beautiful heroine with eyes and mouth gaping wide with 
amazement and admiration. 

beg pardon/^ shs said, icily, and bowing low, ^^butwill 
the gentlemen have the kindness to walk in here and finish 
their conversation? Being an interested party, I feel some- 
what sensitive about having my name made public in the 
affair. Besides, sir/^ she added, turning to Mr. Ellerton, 
believe there is a little matter of business to be settled 
between us.^^ 

She stepped one side, and made a graceful motion with 
her hand for them to enter. 

Being thus taken entirely at a disadvantage, they knew 
not what else to do than obey her, and entered the pres- 
ence of Madame Alroyd with rather a crest-fallen air. 

With queenly stateliness Dora introduced her aunt to Mr. 
Ellerton, and he in his turn introduced Professor Ursengen 
of the Institute to both the ladies. 

Mr. Ellerton gazed upon Dora with wonder. 

He knew by her words that she had received some com- 
munication akin to his own; and he had not expected to see 
her bear herself so proudly. He remembered her only as a 
little girl whom he had seen in tears, and he had anticipated 
a reception of the same kind when he should make known 
his son^s desire. But the tables were turned; she was the one 
who was self-possessed, and he confused and abashed before 
a slender girl. 


102 


THRICE WEDDED. 


The little professor^s eyes wandered admiringly over her, 
from the top of her queenly head to the tip of her dainty 
feet, while he quoted to himself: 

“A daughter of the gods! 

Divinely tall and most divinely fair/' 

Then suddenly feeling that he had no part nor lot in her 
affairs, asked to be excused and bowed himself out. 

Mr. Ellerton immediately recovered himself, and said, in 
a voice of regret: 

beg. Miss Dupont, you will pardon me for being so 
inconsiderate as to mention this subject in so public a place. 
My intense anxiety and disappointment at the absence of my 
son must be my apology for my forgetfulness.^' 

Dora bowed coldly, then arose, and taking Kobert’s letter 
from the table, handed it to him, saying: 

^•'It is but^right, sir, that you should know the contents 
of the communication I have received from your son. I 
understood from your conversation with Professor TJrsen gen 
that you had been the recipient of one something like \t. 

Mr. Ellerton read that cruel letter through, and then ex- 
claimed, with perplexity: 

^'Zounds!^^ He immediately recovered himself, and 
added, beg pardon, ladies, but I don^t understand this 
business — it is so unlike Kobert of old.*^^ 

agree with you there, sir,^^ replied Dora, a scornful 
smile wreathing her white lips, which had again grown pale 
as her marble cheek.^^ 

never knew Eobert to do a mean thing in his life be- 
fore. Why on earth could he not have informed us of the 
change in his feelings sooner? I never thought they would 
change when he left home.'^^ 

^‘But you see that he acknowledges life to be very change- 
able. But, if you please, we will not discuss this matter 
further. He spoke of a paper for me to sign, which [ pre- 
sume you have with you. I would like to have this matter 
settled at once.^^ 

Oh, how proud and cold was that voice! 

But he could not see those tiny hands, so fiercely clasped 
among the folds of her dress that the blood started beneath 
the pressure of the delicate nails. 

^‘My dear young lady,^^ responded Mr. Ellerton, in deep 
distress, wish — shall we not wait awhile, until I can see 

my son, and obtain a more definite explanation?” 


THRICE WEDDED. 


103 


she retorted, pointing to the note he held in his 
hand, while her eyes flashed fire, and the blood mounted in 
an angry torrent to her pale brow, ^^sir, I have no desire to 
humiliate myself enough to await anything more definite 
than that/^ 

He regarded her with a look of admiration while he re- 
plied: 

^‘Believe me. Miss Dupont, I suffer more than I can ex- 
press, that anything so unfortunate as this should have oc- 
curred. ^^ay,'-" he entreated, as he saw the scornful curve 
of her lip, and knew that she was thinking of her foiuner 
opposition, also sincerely regret the past; so sincerely 
that I had come to receive my boy with open arms, and al- 
low him to follow his own inclinations, if he still chose to 
claim you as his bride. I beg you will believe me. All op- 
position has long since died out of my heart. 

Again Dora bowed coldly, and then said, with a touch of 
sarcasm in her voice: 

^‘You perceive that your son has followed his own incli- 
nations in renouncing me. And I pray you will believe me 
when I say that I, too, regret the past; bitterly regret that 
I was ever the cause of discord in your family. If you will 
now give me the paper, I will prove my sincerity by at once 
sundering the relations which bind me to your son, Kobert 
Ellerton!^^ 

With tears in his eyes, the unhappy father took a folded 
paper from his bosom and handed it to our heroine. He 
knew the beautiful young creature was suffering, despite her 
cold and haughty manner, and his heart melted at the sight 
of her pure, waxen face and pale, sternly compressed lips. 
Had he dared he would gladly have taken her in his arms 
and comforted her. 

But she was unapproachable. 

She hid her fearfully lacerated heart beneath a barrier of 
chilling scorn and contempt. 

Dora ran her eyes swiftly over the paper. 

It was in the form of an agreement between both parties, 
to annul the marriage ceremony which had been performed 
over six years before. 

Eobert Ellerton^s name was signed beneath! 

With a dash of her pen Dora affixed her own name 
underneath, and then returned the document to Mr. Eller- 
ton. 


104 


THRICE WEDDED. 


He placed it carefully in his pocket, and then rising, 
bade the ladies a polite ^ ^good-morning’^ and retired, sad 
and disappointed, from the room. 

Our poor stricken lamb, utterly overcome by the restraint 
she had imposed upon herself, again fell lifeless to the floor. 

She soon revived, however, and resumed her cold, calm 
exterior; refusing all sympathy, and forbidding the subject 
.to be mentioned. 


CHAPTER XVIL 

‘‘WE SHALL SEe!’^ 

That same evening found Ralph Moulton and his uncle 
again seated in their room at the inn, engaged in earnest 
conversation, while the same eager listener, Ronald Edger- 
ton, was within the closet, to devour every word that fell 
from the two plotters’ lips. 

“I tell you things don’t work just as I want them to, 
Ralph,” said the old man, discontentedly, 

^‘Why?” asked Ralph. 

^‘Because the old fellow does not seem to mind the young 
one’s disappearance very much. He seems to take it as a 
matter of course, that, if his son did not wish to meet the 
young lady, he should take himself off. I saw him just 
after he had received your cunning forgery, or at least within 
a couple of hours after, and he was as calm as a clock. It 
would have done me good to have seen him rave and tear 
a little.” 

“I guess hell rave and tear enough when I demand my 
rights, which I intend to do to-morrow,” replied the nephew, 
with a touch of bitterness. 

His uncle did not reply at once. He did not like to have 
Ralph quite so eager about this claim. When he had told 
him his history — or rather when he had invented this 
abominable lie, in order to make him a willing tool to fur- 
ther his own evil designs — he had hoped to be able, by 
promising him his whole fortune, to make him give up the 
idea of claiming Ellerton as his father. But he was deter- 
mined to prove that he had a legal claim to that name. And 
the squire blamed himself now for twitting him so much 
about his obscure birth. 

Another thing troubled him greatly. He had not antici- 
pated meeting Mr. Ellerton in Germany. 


TEHIGE WEDDED, 105 

His plan had been to ruin the son, blast all his prospects 
in life, and then return and try to destroy the father. 

While Mr. Ellerton was in the country, he knew he 
could do nothing with Eobert without exciting suspicion, 
unless 

A bright idea struck him here, and his evil face lighted 
with a fiendish triumph. 

He reasoned that his enemy had probably disposed of 
most of his property on leaving his native land, intending 
to spend several years traveling with his son. In that case 
he would have most of it in gold with him, or if not in the 
coin itself, something equivalent in value to show for it. 

Why could he not put Mr. Ellerton out of the way, and 
thus ruin father and son at one blow! Then he could put 
forward Kalph^s claim, wil^ no one to dispute it, and he 
would be sure to win. He felt he would never have so 
favorable an opportunity as now, for the smugglers were at 
hand to aid him, and once the thing was done, they could 
leave the country and enjoy their triumph without a fear of 
being molested. 

As these thoughts passed with lightning-like rapidity 
through his mind, he glanced askance at his nephew, won- 
dering within himself whether it would be safe to impart to 
him this diabolical plan. 

He was a little fearful that Ealph was not quite hardened 
enough in sin yet, to calmly contemplate robbery and mur- 
der. At all events, it would do no harm to sound him a 
little upon the subject. 

don’t know about going to the trouble and expense of 
trying to prove your claim, Ralph,^^ he finally said. 
think we can come at it easier than thatP 

•‘How?^’ asked Ealph, looking up, surprised. 

^^Why, I have been thinking that Ellerton must have 
turned most of his property into money before leaving home. 
I know he did before when he went abroad, and it would 
only take a little maneuvering to get possession of it,^^ he 
replied, winking wickedly at him. 

Ealph cast a quick, searching glance over his uncle^s face, 
and then replied, with an assumed air of indifference : 

^‘Explain yourself, if you please. I don^'t understand. 

'‘AYell, if we will only say the word, the smugglers will 
quickly put him out of the way, and the money is ours."^^ 

^‘What then is to become of my honorable name that 


106 


THRICE WEDDED. 


you have harped upon so much?” demanded Kalph, with 
a sneer. 

His uncle winced beneath this quick retort, but replied 
confidently: 

^^Why, you foolish boy, don^t you see that will be easy 
enough then. You will have no one to dispute your claim 
but that puling boy, and what can he do, with no proofs, 
against such incontestable ones as you have?” 

^^Then you mean for us to cage up the father for life, get 
possession of the property, and let my young rival go, and 
work or beg for his living?” Ealph said, in a manner which 
gave his uncle some encouragement to reveal the whole of 
his plan. 

^^That is just what I mean, with one or two important 
alterations, which I will name,” he replied, jocosely. 
propose to cage him, as you call it, but not like his son, but 
rather in a wooden box, and six feet below ground, and then 
let the young man go to Jericho if he wants to.” 

^‘In other words, you would murder the man,” said Ralph, 
in a husky voice, with a pale face and stern brow. 

^^You\e. hit it right this time, my boy I” he answered, 
with a wicked leer. ‘^And now what do you think of it?” 

Ealph involuntarily shuddered at such bold, out-spoken 
treachery, and he replied in a voice of intense loathing 
and horror: 

think you are a fiend, and I only wish you had left me 
to die in the land of strangers, where my mother died, in- 
stead of bringing me up for crimes like this. And I tell you 
I will never dip my hands in human blood.” 

^‘Eeally, young man, you are getting to be quite compli- 
mentary ill your style of address,” sneered the heartless 
villain, an angry glow suffusing his yellow and wrinkled 
face. 

do but speak the truth, sir; and I would have you 
distinctly understand that I will never stain my soul with 
the crime of murder. And I begin to think that I have 
taken the wrong way after all to gain my honorable name 
that you tell so much about. You have inspired my heart 
with hatred — from my infancy, as it were — toward every 
legally born child, making me feel like an outcast and a 
beggar. I believe if I had gone bravely and openly to him 
whom you say is my father, with the proofs in my hand, 
he might have been willing to recognize me e<jually with 


THRtCJ^ WEt>DEB. 


i07 


his son. But you have always bribed me to hatred and re- 
venge. Oh! if my mother had only lived to teach me to be 
upright and truthful, I would have blessed her, even had she 
been unable to give me an honorable name.^' 

Squire Moulton^s heart was boiling with wrath at the 
boy^s bold and defiant language, and cursing himself for a 
fool for revealing his plans to him, he retorted bitterly: 

^‘Oh, ho, my fine young man! it^s all very nice to imagine 
a man like Mr. Ellerton to be so generous and noble. A 
man in his position you know is apt to be willing to acknowl- 
edge his own dishonor. I advise you to proceed to him at 
once and see what kind of a reception he will give you.^^ 

Imagination cannot picture the expression of that vile 
man^s face as he made this sarcastic and taunting reply. It 
seemed as if all the evil passions of his nature had concen- 
trated themselves into one look of convulsive fear, hate, and 
malice, while his wicked heart beat with terror lest his 
tool — his dupe — should reveal everything, and thus thwart 
every chance for vengeance upon his despised foe. 

He saw it would not do to break with Ralph; he had trusted 
in him to such an extent that he was necessary to help him. 
He resolved to work upon his evil passions again. It would 
not do to let him madly plunge both of them into ruin by 
one false step. But he felt almost as if he could strike him 
dead as young Ralph looked him full in the face and replied 
to his last taunt. 

shall at least make the trial,^' Ralph said, firmly. 
have done evil enough already without having a dead man 
haunting me all the days of my life. 1 have sworn that 
Dora shall be my wife; and I am willing to do anything 
reasonable to win her. I shall force her into a marriage, 
and teach her to love me afterward. But as for murder, 
ugh! I will not do itT^ 

‘'I tell you, Ralph, you shall not do anything so rash as 
to go, as you intend, to Mr. Ellerton. You would only get 
kicked and scorned for your pains, and perhaps be arrested; 
then how will you marry your lady-love? Besides, I think 
you are rather overlooking the wrong he has done your 
mother, and that you also forget that lie has known of your 
own existence, and willfully deserted you all these years. 
Are you willing to forgive and forget all this?^' asked the 
crafty man. 


108 


mmCE WEDDED, 


know all this/^ replied his nephew, with a weary sigh, 
as he realized the force of his nncle^s remarks. 

^‘Then, don^t you see, if you make yourself known at this 
early hour, and get yourself into trouble, you will surely 
lose the girl, together with your name and fortune 

Squire Moulton saw the advantage he had gained, and 
thus had hastened to increase it. 

Ealph bowed his head upon the table in troubled thought, 
while heavy sighs burst every now and then from his aching 
heart. He felt the truth of what his uncle argued, namely, 
if they possessed themselves of Mr. Ellerton^s money, he 
would be almost powerless to resist them, and would be will- 
ing, perhaps, to concede what they asked. 

At last he looked up and said, half desperately, half 
sadly: . 

^ ‘Uncle, I don^t see but that one sin leads to another, and 
that we will have to get possession of the old fellow’s money 
before we can accomplish much. But, mark me, I will not 
have a single drop of blood spilled!” His love for Dora 
prompted him to use every exertion to win her, and he 
added, “I will tell you what I will consent to do; but be- 
yond it I will not go. I will agree that Mr. Ellerton be 
waylaid and conveyed to the cave, where we can get posses- 
sion of his valuables; for in all probability he carries them 
about his person. Then, when we have him in our power, we 
can compel him to sign papers agreeing to acknowledge me 
as his rightful heir, or, at least, joint heir, with Eobert. The 
boy has never wronged me, and is not to blame for what his 
father has done, and I don’t wish to take anything from 
him. If Ellerton will agree to this, as I have no doubt he 
will when he sees our proofs, then we will free them both. 
It will probably take some time to bring him to these terms, 
and in the meantime I will secure my fcide. What do you 
say to my plan?” 

While Ealph had been speaking the squire’s brain had 
been busily at work. 

He saw at once it would be policy to appear to agree to his 
nephew’s proposition. 

After they had once got his enemy in their power, he knew 
there would be ways enough to dispose of him. 

Indeed, he rather liked the plan on the whole, for he 
would then have an opportunity of triumphing over him, 
and making him feel his victory/ 


THRlca WEDDED, 


109 


Yes, he would agree with Ealph, hut — he vowed Ellerton 
should die — and — by his own hand. 

If once safe within the smuggler’s cave, he should never 
‘see the light of day again. 

Oh! it would be sweet to see him chained in a dungeon, 
and taunt him with his grief! It would be glorious to tell 
him how he had worked out his ruin, planning it night 
and day for years, and see him writhe and suffer in his 
agony! 

Then he would reveal to him how he had helped Ealph to 
tear Eobert’s bride from his almost clasping arms, and ap- 
propriate her to himself. And it was with difficulty that he 
disguised and concealed his anticipated triumph from the 
sharp eyes of his nephew. But he dropped his glowing orbs, 
and replied, calmly: 

^^Yes, yes, boy. Fll agree to anything to keep the peace 
between us; and, in fact, I guess it’s the best thing we can 
do. When shall w^e put the plan in force?” 

^^To-morrow, if possible. I want this thing over with as 
soon as practicable. I will go immediately to see Hans, and 
give him our instructions, and have him on Ellerton’s track 
before sunset to-morrow evening.” 

^‘All right. The quicker the better,” replied the old vil- 
lain. 

Ealph instantly arose and left the room, intent on his 
errand, leaving his uncle maturing his diabolical plan for 
the future. 

Eonald Edgerton, who had listened to the above conver- 
sation with creeping flesh and eyes distended with horror, 
crept cautiously back into his room, muttering to him- 
self: 

shall see! We shall see!” 


CHAPTEE XVIII. 

THE IJHHEEDED WAK^I^G. 

Toward evening of the following day Mr. Ellerton stood 
booted and spurred upon the steps of the Glenburn House, 
impatiently waiting for the groom to bring around a horse. 

He was going for a gallop over the distant hills to get a 
breath of fresh air and a view of the surrounding country. 

While standing thus he saw a dirty little urchin, bare- 


lio 


TMRICS WEDDED. 


footed and ragged, behind one of the large fluted pillars 
which supported the porch, and every little while he caught 
him peeping nut upon him with curious eyes. 

He bore this scrutiny as long as he cared to, and then 
walked up to him, saying, somewhat crossly: 

^‘What are you prowling about here for, you youngster? 
Anything wanted?"^ 

The little fellow tore off his tattered cap, and catching 
hold of the shock of yellow, tangled hair that hung down 
over his forehead, gave it a vigorous pull. 

He then thrust his hand deep into his trousers pocket, 
pulled out a soiled and crumpled piece of paper, which he 
put hastily into Mr. Ellerton^s hand, and with a low 
‘‘Mum^s the word, sir,^^ he darted like a flash from his sight. 

Somewhat amused at this singular proceeding, while at 
the same time he was unconsciously impressed by the ur- 
chin^s mysterious manner, he glanced around to see if any 
one had observed the event before he opened the note. 

There was no one about, and he unfolded it and read the 
contents. 

It was written in a round, manly hand, which Mr. Eller- 
ton thought had a familiar look; but where or when he had 
seen that same handwriting before, he could not remember. 

It had been carefully and neatly folded, but the boy had 
probably soiled and rumpled it through carelessness. 

It contained the following words: 

‘ ‘Egbert Ellerton: — 

“Be on j^our guard to-day. Do not go beyond the reach of help with- 
out the means of self-defense, for danger lurks in your path! 

“A Friend.” 

Mr. Ellerton curled his lips in a scornful smile, as if he 
did not fully credit the writer’s story. Nevertheless he 
turned and went within the hotel, back up into his room, 
and slipped a couple of loaded pistols into his breast-pocket. 

When he appeared below again the groom stood waiting 
with his horse. 

He mounted, and, putting his spurs to the«animal, gal- 
loped swifdy away in the direction of the cliffs w^hich we 
have before mentioned, and in the recesses of which our 
hapless hero was imprisoned. 

Mr. Ellerton thought if he could gain the summit of 
these cliffs he should have a splendid view of the surround- 
ing country. 


TERICE WEDDED. 


Ill 


As he slowly ascended the side of the rug*ged cliffs, 
he began to ponder upon the strange warning he had re- 
ceived. Who could have written it? Who was there in all 
the country who knew him familiarly enough to call him 
Eobert Ellerton? 

Where had he seen that handsome handwriting before? 
It was somewhere away back in the dim past; but when or 
where he could not recall, and the more he tried to remem- 
ber the more puzzled he grew. Neither could he imagine 
what the danger was that lurked in his path. 

Had he been in a country among barbarians, he might 
well give heed to such a warning; but here, in such a quiet 
town, where almost every one gave his attention to cultiva- 
tion and learning, it could not be possible that any very 
great danger could threaten him. 

Still, the more he meditated upon it, the more uneasy he 
grew. 

By this time he had reached the summit of the cliff. 

The prospect from this point was attractive. Far, far 
away as the eye could reach was the sea in all its grandeur, 
and reflecting from its silver bosom the many-tinted glories 
of yonder sky, while just at his feet its waves gently washed 
the huge crags with its foam and yellow sands; and invol- 
untarily he murmured those beautiful lines from Tennyson^s 
pen; 

“Break, break, break, 

At the foot of thy crags, oh, sea! 

But the tender grace of a day that is dead 
Will never come back to me.” 

With a feeling half of pleasure, half of melancholy at 
his heart, he turned to leave the enchanted spot, when a 
shrill cry, as of some one in pain, startled him. 

Turning his eyes in the direction whence the sound pro- 
ceeded, he saw just below him a noble horse, madly rearing 
and plunging among a cluster of bushes, while near by lay 
the prostrate form of a man apparently much injured, judg- 
ing from his repeated cries and shrieks. 

Without a moment s thought, except that of helping a 
suffering fellow-being, Mr. Ellerton put spurs to his horse 
and dashed recklessly down the narrow path of the cliff — 
out of sight of the village, out of the reach of help — on, on 
into danger and treachery, and into the hands of a set of 
vile and heartless villains! 


112 WEDDED. 

Oh, ^y md he not heed that timely warning? 

He quickly gained the side of the prostrate man, and sprang 
to the ground to his assistance. 

Scarcely had his foot touched the earth when the man 
sprang to his feet, and covering Mr. Ellerton^s heart with a 
heavy revolver, shouted: 

^^Stand, or your life is the forfeit!^^ 

Like a flash of lightning his situation rushed upon him, 
and he realized all too late how necessary had been the warn- 
ing he had that morning received! 

He knew he must have been followed and watched every 
step of the way from the hotel, and that the farce of the dis- 
mounted and injured rider had only been an ingenious trap, 
into which he had so readily fallen. 

His own hand involuntarily sought for his weapons of de- 
fense, but at that moment a slight rustling caused him to 
glance up, and he saw three more ruffians surrounding 
him. 

He realized at once how utterly vain and useless would be 
any attempt at resistance, and without a word he submitted 
to have his hands bound behind him. 

One of the villains now approached him with a folded 
handkerchief, remarking jocosely, with a tantalizing grin: 

^^ISTeat little trap, wasn^t it? Now, if you please, we will 
cover up those peepers of yours, as you might be adding to 
your stock of information while we make our journey to the 
palace; and that would not suit the king you know.^"^ 

The villain laughed a coarse laugh, in which he was heartily 
joined by his companions. 

^‘For what am I molested ?^^ demanded Mr. Ellerton, with 
calm disdain, while he suffered himself to be blindfolded. 

^‘The king wants you,^^ was the reply. 

‘^What king?^^ 

^^Wby, our king. He has got no particular province as I 
know of. I may as well call him the King of the Cannibal 
Islands as anything else,"^^ replied the ruffian, winking at his 
comrades. 

Again their rude laughter rang over the echoing hills. 

‘^Where are you taking rne?^^ asked Mr. Ellerton, not deign- 
ing to notice the wretched attempt at witticism. 

^^To the palace, as I informed you before; and to safe 
quarters 1^11 warrant you. Come, tramp, for we are in a 


THBICE WEDDED. 


113 


hurry and the poor man was seized by both arms and hurried 
roughly over the uneven path. 

He asked no more questions. His pride kept him silent, 
and he would not have calmly borne their coarse insolence 
liad it been in his power to resent it. 

They traveled more than a mile in this manner, then after 
the same ceremonies of stamping, passing through secret pas- 
sages and doors that his son had noticed, he was finally un- 
bound, and found himself in a large stone cell comfortably 
furnished. The ruffians left him to himself after bolting and 
barring the door. 

The cell was lighted by a large hanging lamp, while the 
air which ventilated the apartment came through the upper 
part of the door which was formed of an iron grating. 

With a heavy heart he sat down to consider his uncom- 
fortable position, and to wonder why he was thus a prisoner. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

SHALL GO MAD.^^ 

The sound slumber into which Robert had fallen was 
broken by the sweetest strains of music. He sa^ up on his 
couch and rubbed his eyes, trying to arouse himself; he was 
bewildered, yet enchanted, for the strains continued, now 
bursting forth into joyous melody, then dying away into the 
softest cadences, and finally sweeping on into intense passion 
and sadness. 

They seemed to come from behind his bed, and he vowed 
to himself that mortal ear never before heard such exquisite 
music. 

It sounded like a voice accompanied by a harp, and the 
tones so clear, so sweet, were like the chiming of delicate 
silver bells. 

He examined the tapestry hangings and found a place 
where they could be parted; he pulled aside the heavy folds, 
and saw a ponderous block of stone upon hinges, and swung 
open a foot or so into his chamber. 

Determined to learn all he could of this strange under- 
ground castle, and hoping this might be some secret passage 
which would lead him to liberty, he swung the block still 
farther back, and sweeping the heavy curtain aside, he beheld 
a fairy bower of beauty and elegance. 


114 


THRICE WEDDED. 


The room was about the size of the one assigned to him, 
but hung with elegant white velvet, with gilt and purple 
trimmings. The carpet, also of white velvet, was strewn 
with great purple pansies, so perfect with their golden cen- 
ters, and in their royal beauty, that Eobert scarcely dared 
to step lest he should crush out their brilliant hues. 

The furniture, of purple and white, and framed in gilt, 
was of the most exquisite and graceful pattern. Lovely 
paintings and statues adorned the walls and niches of the 
room, and upon a table of some foreign wood inlaid with 
pearl, were scattered richly bound books, music, and all the 
delicate little trifles which one so likes to see in a lady^s bou- 
doir. 

Over this table, and perched daintily upon one foot in his 
fancy cage, was a canary of purest gold, ever and anon 
twittering and chirping an echo to the song of his fair mis- 
tress. 

For several moments Eobert scarcely dared to breathe, lest 
the lovely scene should melt away before his vision, and 
he awake and And it all a dream. He stood transfixed and 
amazed; every step he took in this strange smugglers^ fort- 
ress, he discovered new beauties and fresh mysteries. 

Upon a divan, dressed in spotless white, sat a golden- 
haired maiden, lightly fingering a magnificent harp, and 
pouring forth her soul in song. 

Her face was fair and pure as a lily, and round, sweet, 
and almost babyish in its contour. Her heavily fringed 
lids drooped over a pair of purple-blue eyes, and almost 
lay upon her delicately tinted cheeks, while occasionally a 
bright drop left their wondrous depths and rolled like a 
sparkling dewdrop down upon the purple pansies at her 
feet. 

All at once her song ceased, and with a deep sigh the 
bright beauty bowed her lovely head and rested it against 
the harp before her. 

Almost involuntarily the sigh was echoed from our heroes 
breast, and the spell was broken. 

The young girl started violently, and rising, a low, fright- 
ened cry broke from her ripe lips as her glance rested 
upon Robert. 

He recognized her at once. 

She was the same beautiful maiden whom he had seen 


TBBlGE WMDDEi). 


iiS 


the previous evening, and who had entertained him with her 
music while he was eating his supper. 

He saw that she was startled by his presence, and 
raising his hand with a reassuring gesture, he said, respect- 
fully: 

pray you, fair lady, do not be alarmed. I mean you 
no harm. Some kind fate, or Providence, has opened a 
secret passage between your room and mine, and impelled 
partly by curiosity, partly by your beautiful song, I ven- 
tured to seek its source. Is my apology accepted 

She raised her liquid orbs to his, while a bright blush suf- 
fused her face, and bowed her graceful little head in token 
of assent, but spoke no word in reply. 

am a captive, Eobert went on to explain, ‘‘put here 
by some bitter enemy, and I must needs believe you are in 
a like situation, for no one so fair and lovely would volun- 
tarily remain in these vaults, gloomy despite their oriental 
magnificence.^^ 

“I am a prisoner, and yet I am not a prisoner. There are 
circumstances which would compel me to remain here were 
every secret door and passage thrown open to give me lib- 
erty, replied the lovely being, in tones so sweet, yet so sad, 
that the tears involuntarily started to our heroes eyes. 

“Can such a thing be possible he asked in surprise. 

“Yes, for I have no other home in all the wide, wide 
world, and while I mourn, I am still glad, for it is in my 
power to protect and minister to others, who, like yourself, 
are held in captivity here.^^ 

“Will you forgive my curiosity, and explain yourself 
more fully? Or do I intrude? If so I will retire at 
once?^^ 

KoberPs eyes pleaded hard to be allowed to remain, 
though he made a motion as if about to retreat. 

“Nay, be seated,^^ the girl replied, waving him to a seat, 
and at the same time sinking back upon the divan from 
which she had risen. 

Eobert took the seat indicated, and anxiously waited for 
his fair hostess to resume the conversation. 

At length she said, with a strain of sympathy in her sweet 
voice: 

“I know something of your history, and partly the reason 
why you are confined here, and I sorrow every day I live 
that I cannot in some way be the means of liberating the 


116 


mmCE WEDDED. 


unfortunate ones who are so ofter brought here. But I am 
only a weak woman, and can do but very little against so 
many wicked men.^^ 

Eobert thought that she was a very, very beautiful woman, 
if she was weak; almost as lovely as Dora. 

told you/^ she continued, ‘‘that I have no other home. 
My mother is dead. My father I never saw, as he deserted 
his wife before I was born. My uncles, who were once rich 
and prosperous, have spent all their wealth in trying to hunt 
down the man who so deeply wronged their sister; and when 
she died they took me, a poor little orphan, brought me up 
and educated me, suffering every privation that I might 
not be denied any dainty or luxury. 

“Finally their last dollar was spent, and in their despera- 
tion they joined this band of smugglers, and while on some 
business for the gang in the IJnited States they discovered 
my father. 

“They watched and dogged his every step until he came 
to this country, and are now waiting for a favorable oppor- 
tunity to wreak their vengeance upon him, and claim my 
rights, after which they have promised me they will forever 
renounce this wicked business. 

“You say the man, who is your father, is now in this 
country, said Robert, as he paused for a moment. 

“Yes, in the country and in this very village, though 
why he is here, I do not know, unless a righteous Providence 
has driven him here to compel him to do justice to the 
wronged.'’^ 

A shade of sadness clouded her fair brow, and a deep sigh 
broke from her lips. 

“Will you tell me this unnatural father’s name?” asked 
Robert. 

“Ralph Moulton.” 

“Ralph Moulton!” exclaimed Eobert, wildly. “Which — 
who — what — pardon me, I am so taken by surprise. But 
will you please tell me in what part of the United States 
your uncles found him?” 

Our hero leaned breathlessly forward, awaiting her 
reply. 

“In S , Massachusetts,” she answered, glancing up in 

gentle surprise. 

“The same— the very same. How exceedingly strange!” 


mmCE WEDDED, 


117 


he replied, starting to his feet and pacing hack and 
forth. 

^^Do you know this man, who, I am told, is my 
father 

‘‘Know him replied Eobert, bitterly. “I know him as an 
enemy — as my father^s bitterest enemy; and I begin to feel 
convinced that he is concerned in that plot against me. Yes, 
yes; I see it ail now — fool that I have been, not to think of 
it before^' 

He struck his hand* violently against his brow as he re 
called what the chief had told him — about his father^s un- 
lawful marriage, and his being an illegitimate son. 

Then his mind went far back to the day when he and 
Dora went to the squire to be married; his questions and 
emotion concerning his mother; and he realized at 
once that there was a deep and vile plot on foot to destroy 
him. 

He remembered that the squire had a nephew, and was 
convinced that it was he who had seen Dora, become at- 
tached to her, and was resolved to marry her, taking this 
way to get rid of him in order to make his own way 
clear. 

He was deeply agitated, and wondered what his father 
thought had become of him. And Dora — would she think 
he had willfullyMeserted her? He feared so, feeling that 
his enemy would urge this view of the case, and eventually 
win her for himself. 

He was nearly frantic with the thought, and forgot where 
he was — forgot everything but that he would wreak the bit- 
terest vengeance upon the vile plotters, could he but lay his 
hands upon them; and wrung his hands in his agony, ut- 
terly regardless of the two beautiful eyes that were wistfully 
following his every movement. 

“Yes, yes; it is as I fear, without doubt. Oh, why does 
Heaven permit such wickedness to go unpunished? Is 
there no way that I can escape, that I may thwart them? 
Oh, Heaven, give me strength to bear this, or I shall 
go madr^ 

He threw himself, exhausted, into a chair, and groaned 
aloud. 

The lovely girl opposite him arose, and gliding softly to 
his side, laid one of her small white hands upon his arm, 
and said; 


THklGE WEDDED. 


Ii8 

friend, I begin to believe that a kind Providence has 
indeed led you to me to-day; and that our lives and des- 
tinies are in some mysterious way connected, and the same 
person has done us both a foul wrong. I pray that you will 
have confidence in me. Tell me your story, and perhaps I 
may be able to help you, or rather we may be able to help 
each other. 

He looked at her with a sad, yet admiring glance, and 
taking her little hand, pressed it reverently to his lips; then 
said: 

^‘My dear young lady, you do me honor to put so much 
faith and trust in me; while at the same time you shame me 
with your courage and calmness. I thank you sincerely for 
your sympathy, for your gentle eyes tell me I have that. 
But I am selfish to be so bound up in my own sorrows and 
troubles, besides being rude to interrupt so abruptly your 
story. Please pardon me, and continue your narrative, after 
which I shall, in return, tell you my own history. 

He led her gently to a sofa, and taking a seat beside her 
signified his readiness to listen to her tale. 


CHAPTER XX. 

A STRANGE STORY. 

^^Some nineteen years ago,^^ said the maiden, ^^a gentle- 
man, Ralph Moulton by name, was traveling in Italy. He 
came to Naples, where my mother^s family resided. , There 
were four of them in the household — my grandfather, my 
two uncles, and my mother. Their names were Count of 
Lamerack, Gerient and Edwin, and Vivien. She was the 
darling of their hearts, the light and pride of their eyes. 
Nothing was too good or too expensive for her, her every 
wish was gratified, every whim pampered. 

^^At a fashionable evening party my mother was intro- 
duced to this Mr. Moulton, and loved him at once. It was 
-tnot a mere girlish fancy, but the strong, pure love of her 
inmost soul. He, in return, professed to reciprocate her af- 
fection, and wished to marry her. This her father objected 
to strongly. He gave as one reason that he could not part 
with his darling to go so far away. Neither did he wish her 
to marry a foreigner, no matter how wealthy he might be. 
She must have a titled gentleman for a husband. 


THRICE WEDDED. 


119 


^^Mr. Moulton became very angry at this decided refusal 
of his suit, and vowed he would be revenged, and my mother, 
in her intense love and passion, at length yielded to her 
lover^s persuasions, and wedded him in secret. 

^‘The blow was too much for my grandfather, and he died 
in a fortnight after the discovery of his idoFs disobedience. 
Upon looking into his affairs, instead of the wealthy noble- 
man that every one supposed him to be, he was found to be 
involved to the extent of his whole fortune, and his darling 
was therefore left penniless. Her brothers had each a small 
fortune, left them by their father’s brother, which they gen- 
erously offered to settle upon my mother. But she firmly 
refused the sacrifice, believing that her husband loved her 
for herself alone, and would be true to her, though she 
brought him no dowry. 

^‘She was quickly and cruelly undeceived, however, for 
he commanded her to accept her brother’s proposition. 
Again she refused, and he coaxed and threatened to no pur- 
pose, until finding it all unavailing, he declared he would 
have nothing more to do with her, brutally telling her that 
he did not love her, and had only been attracted to her by 
her resemblance to one whom he had loved a few years be- 
fore. Moreover, he said that their marriage was only a farce; 
that he hoped by making her father believe they were mar- 
ried, he would be willing to forgive her, acknowledge him, 
and settle his fortune upon them. How that she had no 
money, and would not take what was offered her, he was 
tired of her, and never wished to see her again. He left her 
in her weakness and despair, and she never saw his face 
again. 

^^My uncles were furious, and vowed the deepest ven- 
geance upon the villain ; they tried to prove the marriage 
legal, but the brute had cunningly planned the affair, and 
removed every trace and proof of its legality. After a tedious 
search they at length found the man who had performed the 
ceremony. He was a poor monk, who had been confined 
in a mad-house by this villain, and, on his death-bed, sent 
for a clergyman and confessed the whole story. 

^^In the meantime I was born, and my mother died of a 
broken heart. 

was put out to nurse until I was old enough to go to 
school, when I entered a convent, and there received my 
education, during which time my uncles were constantly 


120 


THBICS WEDDED. 


searching after the wretch who had so wronged their 
sister. 

‘^As I told you before, they spent all their money, and 
then in their desperation joined this band, all of whom swore 
to help each other in their troubles. About six years ago, 
while on duty in the United States, they accidentally dis- 
covered my unnatural father living in the most luxurious 
manner imaginable. They were witnesses of an event which 
was likely to affect him injuriously in the future, and 
treasured it up, hoping to use it against him. From that 
day to this they have followed him, tracking every step, 
until at last he has strangely come to the very place of all 
others they most wished him to come, and, they trust, a few 
days, or weeks at most, will give them their long sought 
triumph. 

^ ^Perhaps you think it strange that I so love and cling to 
my uncles ; but I do love them dearly, despite what they 
have come to be. They have been both father and mother 
to me, and are ever gentle and tender. I will not leave 
them, and go forth into the world, where I know I should 
find more congenial associations, for I feel that my love 
keeps them from committing many crimes which otherwise 
they might be led into/^ 

‘‘You are as noble as you are beautiful!^^ exclaimed 
Robert, in admiration, as the fair girl finished her narrative, 
to which he had listened with breathless interest. 

“Kay,^^ she replied, blushing deeply at his earnest words 
and gaze; “you forget how lonely I should be had I no one 
to love, or wdio loved me. They are all the relatives I have 
in the world. 

“True; but this is no fit place for such as you to live in, 
and among all these rough villains, too.^^ 

“Oh, but I never see apy but the chief and my uncles, 
unless it is, in such instances as yours, where I go to enter- 
tain with my poor efforts some poor person who has been 
taken captive.^^ 

“I need not tell you, my gentle friend, that blessings will 
ever follow you for your kind ministrations,'^ exclaimed 
Robert, enthusiastically. “And I trust, he added, ^‘the 
time may soon come when you may be liberated, and know 
earth^s brightest joys."^^ 

“I fear the sun will never brighten my pathway in 


mmCE WEDDED. 121 

she returned^ with a sigh, ^^for my destiny lies un- 
derground/^ 

She shuddered as she spoke, and grew ashy pale. 

Eobert regarded her in silence for a moment, then asked, 
gently : 

^^Will you tell me why you fear this?^^ 

The question recalled her to herself, and she flushed a 
deep crimson, and buried her face in her fair hands. 

Our hero regarded her wonderingly, but did not press her 
for a reply. 

Presently she uncovered her face, and, without looking up, 
said : 

‘^The chief is not willing I should leave this place, at least, 
until he sees fit to remove me himself.'’^ 

The truth flashed upon Eobert at once. He realized that 
that great rough man wished to appropriate this delicate and 
lovely blossom to himself. His very soul revolted at the 
thought, and he inwardly vowed that if ever he escaped, 
his first duty should be to set at liberty this suffering 
maiden. 

‘^Cannot your uncles protect you from a fate like this 
he at length asked. 

^‘They would if they dared; but you doubtless realize that 
they, too, are in his power. He has but to say the word and 
they die, and in that case my lot would be a hundred-fold 
worse. 

^^Cowardly wretch! Let me but regain my liberty, and I 
swear before Heaven I will put to rout this miserable gang of 
thieves said Eobert, passionately. 

‘^You would do a noble act, for others suffer as well as 
myself. I am in no immediate danger, for my uncles have 
made the chief take an oath that he will not press his atten- 
tions until I am of age. But I pray Heaven that I may die 
before that time. I will die! for I will never, never be that 
bad man^s wifeP^ she exclaimed, clasping her hands, and in 
a voice of agony. 

^^You shall not, my dear' friend — my sister, let me call 
you, for I have noile of my own. I promise you that it shall 
never be.^^ 

She shook her head sadly, and heaved a deep sigh. 

thank you, but I fear your efforts will prove unavail- 
ing. I thank you, too, for giving me the sweet name of sis- 


122 


WEDDED. 


ter. You forget that I am the daughter of the man whom 
you say has wronged you deeply, do you not?^' 

do forget it, as I trust you yourself do. For no such 
brute has a right to claim so pure a being for his child.'^^ 

She smiled archly as she replied : 

‘^Silence, flatterer, though your words are very sweet to 
me, and I am only too proud to regard you by so dear a 
tie.^^ 

^‘Do you never feel lonely here with no companions of your 
own age and sex?’^ asked Robert, eager to turn her thoughts 
into a different channel. 

''"Oh, no! I have plenty of company. Come and you shall 
see.^^ 

She bounded lightly from her seat, and moving quickly to 
a curtain of purple velvet, and sweeping it aside, revealed 
a glass door. 

She motioned Robert to conceal himself among the folds 
of the drapery and glance within the room beyond. 

He obeyed, and saw six lovely girls almost as lovely as his 
companion, elegantly dressed, and seated in different parts 
of the room, and laughing and chatting pleasantly, though 
upon every face he could trace lines of sorrow. 

""They are my companions and my charges, she said, 
gazing fondly upon them. ""I am, as it were, their "mother 
abbess.^ For I protect them from all harm and unpleasant 
attentions from the band. My word is law here, and no 
person can enter their presence without my permission. It 
is my compact with the chief that I will remain here 
cheerfully so long as he allows these innocent girls to re- 
main innocent and unmolested. So you see that this must 
be my home, and that I have my duties here, and I assure 
you that I am happy in being allowed to do even this much 
good. Come away now, please, for I would not have you 
discovered by my friends. 

She led him back to his seat, flrst carefully drawing the 
curtains over the door. 

""How came these beautiful girls in this place he asked, 
more and more surprised with what he saw. 

""They were stolen by diffierent members of the band 
from their homes. You perceive that everything is done 
here to render life beautiful and attractive. When the 
band are at liberty they wish to be amused, and these young 
girls, with myself, play, sing, and read to them just as they 


THRICE WEDDED. 


123 


desire. We always assemble An the drawing-room, and 
sometimes we have dancing, and sometimes merely conver- 
sation. Though we know that we are associating with the 
worst characters the world affords, yet at these times a 
stranger would think he was among the very first people of 
the country. The conversation is refined and elevating; no 
word or act is ever allowed that could wound the most deli- 
neate or fastidious. This is the way I have managed to 
guard and protect my sisters, as I call them. Nearly all of 
ithem are of noble birth, and would prefer death to dis- 
honor. I live in the hope that I may yet be the means 
of returning them pure and spotless to their mourning 
friends.^' 

^‘You are an angel/^ burst involuntarily from Robertas 
lips as she finished speaking. ^‘Now please tell me your 
name. That I consider an important omission in your 
story. 

^‘Sure enough,^^ she laughed, ^‘though you already know 
it, for I was named for my mother. I am called Vivien 
Lamerack, but I suppose my true name is Vivien Moulton. 
They tell me I am very like my poor mother. 

Eobert^s eyes plainly said that he thought her 
mother must have been a very beautiful woman, but he 
asked : 

^^Who was that dark-eyed little fairy in yonder room, who 
was playing with a pet kitten 

^^Ah! you noticed her, did you?^^ said Vivien, with a smile. 
^"She is my darling, my pride, my second self. Her name 
is Enid Chichester, an English lady, who was taken from a 
ship that fell into the hands of the band. Her father was 
killed in helping the crew defend the vessel. He was her 
only relative, and she is left all alone the world. Mr. Chi- 
chester was very wealthy, and she is, of course, his heiress. 
The band have long been trying to get possession of her 
wealth, but unsuccessfully as yet. Could my darling but 
regain her liberty she would be one of the richest ladies of 
her country.^^ 

^‘Poor, unfortunate girls! I little imagined such wicked- 
ness was going on so near our quiet institute, or I should 
not have enjoyed my years of study so fully. It is very 
strange this retreat has never been discovered/^ said Eobert, 
thoughtfully. 

^‘People do mistrust that the smugglers have a den^ but 


124 


THRICE WEDDED. 


all their efforts to discover it have proved fruitless. The 
entrances are so cleverly concealed that it would take a 
great deal of searching to discover them. I have been told 
there is one person who has an inkling of its whereabouts; 
but it may be only a story. 

^^Do you and your companions never go out to enjoy a 
breath of fresh air or the sunshine 

^‘Oh, yes, frequently. There is an underground passage 
to the sea, and we often go out for a sail, but always dressed 
like high-born ladies, and accompanied l3y some of the band 
richly clad as gentlemen, so that any one to see us would 
think w'e were some of the gentry out on a pleasure excur- 
sion. In the same way we often go out horseback riding, 
though we are never allowed to go where it is thickly settled, 
lest some of us should give the alarm. We are carefully 
guarded at all times, and every precaution taken to conceal 
our identity. Now,^^ she added, looking up at Kobert, 
archly, have gossiped long enough, so please take your 
turn and tell me about yourself. I am getting impatient to 
know all about you.^^ 

Eobert, in return, related all that the reader already knows 
about him, much to the wonder and indignation of his fair 
listener, who mourned from the very depths of her pure 
heart that she was the child of a man who was so vile in all 
his acts and intentions; whose only desire seemed to be to 
work out revenge and the unhappiness of others. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

AK EKEMY^S TKIUMPH. 

A week passed away, more quickly and pleasantly than 
Robert could have imagined, and he daily had secret inter- 
views with the fair Vivien, and her sweet presence soothed 
him to bear with something of calmness and patience his 
torturing imprisonment and suspense, 

Eobert told his fair sister, as he called her, of Dora, and 
of all her enchanting w^ays, her beauty and accomplishments, 
painting her in the most glowing colors, until Vivien said 
that she already loved her, and longed to see one whom she 
knew must be good and beautiful, to win so noble and true 
a heart as his own. 

Strange though it may seem, her own heart was not 


THRICE WEDDED. 


125 


touched by the many engaging qualities which Eobert pos- 
sessed, other than with a pure sisterly aifection. She never 
dreamed of loving him, herself, which many a girl of less 
mind and character would surely have done. Their inter- 
course was pure, free, and ennobling, such as two delicate, 
accomplished, and high-minded persons could not help en- 
joying to the uttermost. 

Notwithstanding all this, there were many hours of weari- 
ness and impatience which our hero spent by himself. It 
chafed him almost beyond endurance to be thus shut off 
from all communication with the outer world; to be so con- 
fined that he could do nothing for himself, or demand or se- 
cure redress from others for his wrongs; and most of all, cut 
off from all possibility of rescuing his darling from the fate 
which he had been told awaited her. 

He would have felt tenfold more miserable had he even 
dreamed that not a dozen yards from his own chamber, 
which hour after hour he paced in such an angry and dis- 
contented mood, his father lay in a dark and dismal cell, a 
close and unhappy prisoner. 

Poor Mr. Ellerton was unhappy indeed, for he felt that 
he had almost willfully thrown himself into his present situ- 
ation, by so utterly disregarding the warning he had received. 
A week had passed since his abduction, and as he sat brood- 
ing over his situation, a slight rustling outside his door caused 
him to look quickly up, with a faint hope at his heart that 
some friend might be at hand. 

His hope was quickly crushed, however, as he caught sight 
of the ugly face, with its cruel and sinister expression, which 
peered eagerly at him from between the iron bars of his prison 
door. 

Ugh! what a horrible face it was! with its wolfish grin and 
snaky red-black eyes. Despite its ugliness it had a familiar 
look; but where or when he had ever seen it he could not 
recall to mind. 

^^Ha! myfriend,^^ said the stranger, in a disagreeable voice, 
and with intense irony. ^^You donT seem to remember me, 
do you?^^ 

^^No, sir, I do not, was the reply. ^^And yet there is some- 
thing about your face that seems familiar.^’ 

‘‘Urn I — iPs a pleasant face to you, no doubt, was the sneer- 
ing rejoinder. 

Mr. Ellerton made no answer. He loathed the very sight 


126 


THRICE WEDDED. 


of this man, but resolved not to gain his ill-will by making 
any incautious remark. 

The stranger eyed him balefully, while he kept hopping 
uneasily first upon one foot and then upon the other ; at 
length he said, grimly : 

‘‘Urn! I presume if you donT remember me you do Jessie 
Almyr! Ha! that touches you in a tender spot, doesiiT it?^^ 
said the villain, with a horrible grin, as the other started 
violently, and flushed to his very brows with a deep crimson, 
at hearing one whom he had tenderly loved and reverenced 
spoken thus lightly of, and by such a monster, too. 

At last, raising himself to his full height, he replied, 
proudly: 

^^Of course I remember one who was my wife. But I do 
not know who you are that dare mention her name to me in 
that tone.^^ 

‘"Oh, no! But you probably know who it was that dared to 
steal her from her rightful lover; curse you!^^ 

"'Ha! I know you now, Ealph Moulton P replied the un- 
happy man, again closely scrutinizing his enemy^s face, 
going nearer to the grating for that purpose. “Yes, I know 
you now,'^^ he continued ; “but I cannot understand what 
has brought you here, unless you are a prisoner like my- 
self. However that may be, I wish no conversation with 
you, under any circumstances, with regard to my marriage. 
I will say this, though, as the subject has been mentioned : 
Miss Almyr probably accepted me for her husband because 
she loved me and considered me worthy to fill that place; 
and Heaven knows that I loved and cherished her as the 
apple 9f my eye; and life has been dark and dreary 
enough to me since she left me for her happy home 
above. 

As Mr. Ellerton finished speaking, he turned away from 
the intruder at his door, as if to put an end to any further 
conversation, and again seating himself, buried his sad face 
in his hands. 

Squire Moulton, exasperated at his enemy^s calm dignity 
of manner, and at his inability to excite his anger, fairly 
gnashed his teeth, and in a frenzy of passsion, exclaimed : 

“It is a lie — a iDase lie! You know that you came with 
your flattery and honeyed words, your wealth and baby 
face, and won her from me — me, who had always loved 
her, and whose whole life had been one continual study 


THRICE WEDEEt). 


12t 


for her happiness and the gratification of her every wish, in 
the hope that she would one day be mine. She would have 
been my wife, but for your coming. She had almost prom- 
ised me, when you interposed your form between us, and 
blinded her eyes, and snatched her away from as true a 
heart as ever beat within a human breast. There was no 
more joy or sunshine in the dreary world for me. The very 
sun was black and the stars went out, and demons from 
the lowest depths of Hades possessed my soul, spurring me 
on to desperation and -revenge. Yes, revenge; and I swore 
it then and there in my maddening agony. I vowed, and 
called upon Heaven to witness my oath, that you should yet 
writhe and suffer even as I did; that you should cry out in 
your misery for mercy, but that you should cry and plead 
in vain. I have followed and dogged you ever since, striv- 
ing to wreak my vengeance upon you. But the Fates have 
been against me, with the exception of once or twkje, until 
now. How that you are in my power, my very soul pains 
me with the intense desire I have to see your torture and 
misery begin; to see you clasp your hands, and on your 
knees sue for mercy; to see you beat your breast, tear your 
hair, and plead and beg for death to release you from your 
torments 

The villain had wrought himself to the highest pitch of 
excitement, and he fairly shrieked out his last words, as he 
shook his fist in the face of his astonished rival. 

I say astonished, for Mr. Ellerton had never dreamed that 
any defeated lover would carry his disappointment to such 
an extent, and he gazed upon the furious man with a sort 
of stupid amazement, as he realized that this jealous and re- 
vengeful lover of so many years ago was the cause of his 
present suffering and imprisonment. 

He knew that he had always hated him for being his suc- 
cessful rival, and for that reason always kept out of his 
way, thinking the less he had to do with him the better. 
He had never thought of such a thing as his attempting to 
revenge himself, until six years ago, when he married Rob- 
ert and Dora. 

He recognized the fact then, and cursed him for it, but 
supposed that would be the extent to which he would 
carry it. 

How that he found he had been hated, cursed, and pur- 
sued all his life-time, and for this one offense, he could not 


128 


THBIGE WEDDED. 


help regarding with wonder the man who had devoted his 
whole life to such an unworthy and dishonorable purpose. 

^^Ha! ha! haT^ wildly laughed the still intensely excited 
squire, when he had regained his breath. ^^You may well 
look surprised. Methinks I can astonish you still more. 
Listen! I followed you, years ago, when you made your trip 
after the death of your darling. I tried to steal your child 
— hey child, and put my own nephew in his place. But 
that cursed nurse of yours was too quick for me, and I only 
got a sore and aching head for my pains. Yes, yes,'^ he 
hissed, as he saw the light beginning to break over Mr. El- 
lerton^s face. ^^It was probably the fright I gave her that 
caused her death. You possibly remember how hard she 
tried to tell you something when she was dying? Yes, well, 
that was it. And had you not suddenly disappeared from 
the place, I should have tried another grab at the youngster.^' 

^‘Villahi, do you mean to tell me that you have allowed 
such a pitiful jealousy to lead you to such crimes? Beware, 
lest they descend with tenfold force upon your own vile 
head V’ exclaimed Mr. Ellerton, his eye flashing with angry 
excitement. 

"^Ha! you are beginning to be touched, are you? Good! 
that is what I came here to-day for. I want to see you 
cringe beneath my power. It is very sweet to me to see you 
so; it quiets my nerves, and Alls my heart with exultant joy, 
and I trust to see your proud head bowed still lower before I 
have done with you,^’ sneered the monster. 

^^Leave my presence, vile flend! I will not be polluted by 
so evil a thing, commanded Mr. Ellerton, angrily. 

^^Not quite so fast, my lord,^^ replied the squire, mocking- 
ly. have not yet flnished my interesting narrative. I 
would like to give you a list of the things I have done, 
rather than of those I have tried to accomplish. I reckon 
I gave your pride a severe blow when I married your only 
child to a beggar. You may look as lofty and scornful as 
you choose, but for all that I knew it cut deep, as I meant 
it should, else you would not have separated them, and ban- 
ished your boy from his home and his native land 

^^Hold, you scoundrel!’^ shouted the now thoroughly en- 
raged man, but with a gleam of triumph in his eye. 
^^Hold! and let me tell you for your beneflt, that the girl is 
not a beggar, as you imagine, but the sole heiress of hun- 
dreds of thousands, and that, if my son chose to claim her 


THBICE WEDDED, 


129 


to-day, he would have my full and free consent to do so. 
How does that compare with the heavy blaw to my pride 
that you tell about 

Squire Moulton threw hack his grizzled head and laughed 
a long, loud, and scornful laugh, making the dull and un- 
earthly echo ring again and again through the dim, low 
vaults. It was the utter abandonment of the most fiendish 
[joy, and his captive, goaded almost to madness by its mock- 
ling tones, gazed upon him with a look in which perplexity, 
fear, and anger were mingled. 

What did it mean — that taunting, derisive peal of laugh- 
ter? Could it be possible that he had been so closely 
watched and followed that his rival knew of the signatures 
attached to that document lying so safely stowed away in 
his pocket? 

Could it be that his son, like himself, had been enticed 
into captivity? 

He began to think so, and his heart sank like a stone, as 
he marked the look of gloating triumph that gleamed upon 
him from the savage eye of the wicked squire. 


CHAPTEK XXII. 

A father's anxiety. 

When the squire recovered from his fit of Tnerriment, 
which lasted many minutes, he replied, in a voice of in- 
tense satisfaction; 

^‘Oh, my fine gentleman, that is too good I The joke is 
really refreshing, after my hard labor in accomplishing what 
I have. It is truly very cunning of you to seek to blind my 
eyes in that manner, when you know that the marriage be- 
tween your son and Miss Dupont is rendered null and void — 
that you have the signature of both parties in your pocket 
at this very minute, agreeing to consider it so. You are 
very smart, Eobert Ellerton, but I must own that I am a 
little ahead of you, this time." 

The look of blank and troubled amazement which spread 
itself over Mr. Ellerton's face, at this unexpected disclosure, 
was distressing to see. And with a disturbed and crest- 
fallen air, he exclaimed; 

^‘Who told you — how do you know?" 


130 


THRICE WEBBED. 


^^How do 1 know? Very easily. My little plot has worked 
finely, gloriously; and a few days more will see the consum- 
mation of my dearest hopes. The paper you have is all a 
forgery, except the giiTs signature, as are also the letters 
which you and she received. But that is no matter, for one 
of their signatures is sufficient to break the marriage, which 
is all I want. Perhaps you would like to know why? I 
will gladly inform you. You are aware that I have a 
nephew. You know who he is, although you have never 
been willing to recognize the tie that binds* him to you. 
Well, this nephew is very much in love with Miss Dora 
Dupont, and wishes to make her his wife, which she never 
could be legally unless she signed a document consenting to 
a divorce from your son. Kalph Moulton Ellerton — oh, you 
need not start, you know that ought to be his name — real- 
ized that she would never give up her first love unless her 
pride was severely wounded, so he planned this little plot, 
forged the necessary papers — with what success you already 
know — and in a few days she will be his bride. 

‘"Coward! dastard! you don’t mean to tell me that she will 
willingly become his wife!’’ 

“Oh, no! she has not even been asked to consent to it yet. 
She will be forced into the contract, and learn to love him 
afterward, you know!” said the wretch, making a horrible 
grimace. 

“But such a marriage will not be legal. The law would 
never recognize it,” returned Mr. Ellerton, in a composed 
manner. He was utterly confounded by the bold wicked- 
ness of the other. 

“Ha, ha! The law won’t have anything to do with it. The 
young lady will be wedded here, in "the presence of witnesses 
enough to prove all that is necessary. And when she is set 
at liberty it will be too late for the law to do anything 
about it.” 

“And my boy — my boy! what is to become of him?” now 
gasped the thoroughly frightened father, as he began to 
realize how firm was the web that entangled himself and son, 
how cunningly the plot had been laid, and how fatal the 
snare into which they had been enticed. 

“Oh! you begin to think my vengeance is going to amount 
to something after all; don’t you? I swore you should rue 
the day you stole my bride, and now your son shall taste 
some of the bitterness which I have realized!” 


THRICE WEDDED. 


131 


^‘What have you done with him?’^ 

^‘He is safe, where I can clap my hands upon him the 
moment I want him/^ 

^‘Where is he, I ask you ? Oh I you will not murder my 
boy!’' shrieked the agonized father. 

‘^Murder him? No!^’ replied his foe, with a sneer, 
would not have him die on any account. I should feel 
deeply disappointed should anything happen to him. I 
want him to live, and drag out a miserable existence, as I 
have done, without the cheering smile of one he loves; I 
want him to see her the wife of another, and let his heart 
wither and die within his breast, and to have life become a 
dreary, wretched burden, almost too tedious to be borne. 

^‘Oh, Heaven! Is it possible that such wicked heartless- 
ness can dwell upon this. fair earth? Is there no mercy in 
your hard heart.^^^ he cried, with a look almost of despair 
written upon his pale features. 

not an atom! Was there mercy in your heart for me 
when you stole Jessie Almyr almost from my arms?’^ asked 
the vile wretch, with a wicked leer. 

Poor Mr. Ellerton dropped into his chair, groaning in 
anguish. Oh, could he but burst his prison bars, what 
direful vengeance would he wreak upon his tormentor! He 
would trample him into the very dust; he would grind him 
to powder, for this shameful wrong. 

Some moments elapsed in silence, while each was busy 
with his own thoughts, the squire full of irrepressible joy, 
and his captive^s heart beating with sad despair. At last 
the squire spoke: 

‘‘You seem to be enjoying this little drama so much, my 
friend, that I will proceed with it to the end. I have an- 
other cunningly devised fable to relate to you. As I said 
before, you know who my nephew is, and what his true 
name ought to be. I have made him acquainted with that 
fact, and planned a way for him to obtain it. I made a few 
alterations in the story to suit my own arrangements, how- 
ever. I will explain why he was so ready to join me in my 
plans for your destruction. I told him that you were his 
father; that you pretended to marry his mother, who was my 
cousin; that you lived with her until you saw my darling, 
when your fickle heart turned to her, and her pretty face 
won you from your fidelity to his mother. Then you coldly 
told ner that your marriage was only a farce, and you wanted 


132 


THBICE WEDDED. 


nothing more to do with her, at the same time heartlessly 
informing her that she must henceforth take care of herself/’ 

^^Wretch! ” began Mr. Ellertou, in a furious tone. 

With a slight wave of the hand, and a taunting smile, 
the squire replied: 

^‘Yes; he thinks you are a wretch. But please do not 
interrupt me again; it is very annoying. I told Ealph a 
pitiful story; how his beautiful mother begged and pleaded 
at your feet that you would not forsake her in her delicate 
situation, that you would not cast her and her child upon 
the cold charities of the world. But to all you turned a 
deaf ear, and went your way, and never saw her again. I 
also told him that you refused to acknowledge him as your 
son, but lavished all your love and all your wealth upon 
the son of his mother’s rival. 

‘^The boy curses you from his heart, and believes himself 
your legal son and heir, for I have shown him a paper 
which proves to him that your marriage with his mother was 
legal. He joins me heart and hand, and as soon as our 
business is ended here, he will return and try to establish 
his claim to your name and fortune, which, you perceive, 
will be a very easy matter to do with the proofs he has in 
his hands. Do you not think it will be a proud day for 
your brilliant boy when he discovers his name and honor are 
claimed by another, and believes himself to be only a child 
of shame? And will not my revenge then be complete?” 

^‘God will never allow such a foul lie to prosper — such a 
tissue of lies — such a wicked fraud to succeed,” moaned the 
miserable man. 

^^Ha! ha! God! What has he to do with it?” was the 
impious retort. ^Hf you have a God, perhaps He will help 
you out of this fix. But I rather think that Ealph Moul- 
ton will win the day this time.” 

^^You have not told me what you have done with my son. 
I demand to know where he is.” 

^^Well, I don’t mind telling you, if it will be any satisfac- 
tion,” replied the villain, with a malicious sparkle in his 
eye. ^‘His agony, at this moment, is almost equal to yours; 
for he is a prisoner within these very vaults, and not a 
dozen yards from your own cell, but his life shall be spared. 
When my nephew and myself have settled everything to our 
own satisfaction, then he can go free.” 


TEBICE WEDDED, 


133 


^'And what is to become of me?^' asked Mr. Ellerton, 
fixing his eye firmly upon his foe. 

^^You/' he hissed, with a furious expression — ^^you shall 

dier 

^‘Fiend! — for none but a fiend could conceive so vile a 
plot — you dare not do this dreadful thing 

Mr. Ellerton grew white to his very lips, while a spas- 
modic quiver ran over his frame at the thought. 

Squire Moulton laughed a low, taunting laugh. 

^‘You will never do what you propose, at length Mr. El- 
lerton said, in a firm, even tone. ^‘^Something will occur to 
prevent the perpetration of such a crime. But be that as it 
may, you shall not rob my boy of his name, his honor, and 
his pride. His fortune is not of so much account, for he 
can carve out his own. You shall have it, every penny, for 
I have it nearly all with me, only grant my boy this one 
boon. Oh, if there is one drop of mercy in your heart, do 
not deny me this one request. Promise me, promise me, 
and I will yield up everything else, even to my very life.^' 

But the poor man might as well have pleaded to the cold 
and silent walls. He noted the greedy sparkle in the 
squiiVs eyes, when he mentioned his having his fortune 
with him, and realized that his pleadings were vain. 

‘^Oh, ho! I thank you for your most generous offer,’' was 
his reply. ^^But I intend to have the fortune anyway. It 
was partly for this that I came to see you to-day. I must 
have it before I leave this place, together with that paper we 
spoke of; and — listen” — he hissed the words from between 
his teeth — ^‘the next time I come, I promise you that you 
shall go to join your long-lost and much-loved wife.” 

^^Craven, is not your soul already black enough?” 

^^Ha! I must hunt you to death, or my triumph will not 
be complete. Come, now, hand over your funds, for I must 
hasten to other matters.” 

^^hTever, sir! You will never get them from me until you 
take them from my dead body, and that, I warn you, will 
never be, for — villain, you die!” 

Mr. Ellerton had spoken with a calm, defiant air, and as 
he muttered the last words he hastily pulled a pistol from 
his breast, and leveling it at his enemy, fired ! 

Just an instant too late! for Squire Moulton darted like a 
flash to one side^ and the ball sped harmlessly across the 


134 


THRICE WEDDED. 


narrow passage^ and flattened itself against the impenetrable 
rock beyond. 

Mr. Ellerton then drew anotlier pistol from its hiding- 
place, and calmly awaited what should follow. . 

Squire Moulton, from his position of safety, realized the 
danger he should be in if he revealed himself, and taking a 
silver whistle from his pocket he blew it. 

Immediately footsteps were heard, and two rough-looking 
men appeared. Both of them cast baleful glances at the 
squire from beneath their shaggy brows, showing at once 
that they were not friends of his, although they might be 
obliged to obey him for the present. 

One of them glanced eagerly within the cell, and his eyes 
lighted peculiarly as he caught sight of the firm, defiant form 
within. 

^‘Go within and bind that man. Search him thoroughly, 
and bring me whatever you may find about his person, 
commanded Squire Moulton, as they appeared. 

^‘HoldP cried Mr. Ellerton. have no wish to shed 
blood, but I warn you, that the first one who attempts to lay 
his hand upon me, dies. I only act in self-defense.^^ 

He held his pistol cocked, and ready for action. But the 
man before- mentioned fixed his eyes calmly upon him, and 
quickly made a peculiar sign, and the weapon dropped 
from the prisoner’s nerveless hand upon the floor of his cell. 

The door was quickly unlocked, and both men approached 
the prisoner, who allowed himself to be searched and robbed 
of his possessions without the slightest resistance, though 
his eyes closely questioned the one who had made that strange 
signal. And a look of blank surprise remained upon his 
countenance meanwhile. 

Suddenly the stranger bent over him, and as he pretended 
to be busily unfastening a purse-belt from his waist, whis- 
pered : 

^‘Courage! we are friends, and will strive to set you right, 
and free, ere long. Had you obeyed the warning you would 
not be here. Make no sign, but be on the watch!” 

He then gathered up the booty, and carried it all to the 
squire, and they departed, leaving the unfortunate man to 
himself again. 

But he felt cheered, even at the light ray of hope offered 
him, though his blood boiled within him at the heartless 
torture he had been subjected to bj his relentless enemy. 


mniOE WEDDED, 


135 


And he prayed that the day mi^ht come when the tables 
would be turned, and the miserable wretch brought to jus- 
tice. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

UNSUSPICIOUS TEAVELERS. 

Madame Alroyd and Dora had intended departing from 
the place where they had suffered so much, the day follow- 
ing the one on which Mr. Ellerton had visited them and 
obtained our heroine's signature to that fatal document. But 
their plans were defeated; for on the morning set for their 
departure, madam awoke with one of her raging nervous 
headaches, caused by the excitement of the day previous, 
and from which she did not recover for several days. Then 
a driving storm set in, which detained them three days 
longer. 

Toward evening of the third day, however, the clouds dis- 
persed, and Dora begged her aunt not to delay their depar- 
ture any longer. 

Madam thought it rather late in the day to begin a long 
journey, but finally yielded to her niece's persuasions, and 
ordered their carriage to be got in readiness. 

The kind-hearted landlord was much distressed at this de- 
cision, for he knew it was unsafe for any one to travel in 
that part of the country during the night, and put forth every 
inducement he could think of to make them defer their jour- 
ney until the following day. 

i3ut, no; Madame Alroyd said she wanted to get away from 
that ‘^horrible place" as soon as possible, and now that she 
had made up her mind, she should not alter it ; and in de- 
fiance of the anxious landlord's protestations, they started, 
with only their driver for a protection, just as the last rays 
of the glorious setting sun faded from sight. 

They soon repented of their hasty determination, for they 
had not proceeded five miles upon their way when heavy 
clouds overcast the before cloudless sky; the winds arose, 
and there was every indication of another severe storm, or 
a continuation of the'previous one. But they would not turn 
back. 

On they went, over the dark, rugged, mountain road, 


13C 


mntcE WEBDEd. 


which was rendered doubly dismal by the huge forest trees 
which lined each side of the rough way. 

Suddenly the carriage lights revealed to the driver^s fright- 
ened eyes a closely muffled figure, with upraised arm, in the 
act of hurling a heavy, knotted club at his head. 

He dodged, but too late, for it struck him full in the face, 
and, with h groan of pain, his fingers relaxed their hold 
upon the reins, and he rolled senseless from his seat to the 
damp earth below. 

At the same moment, the flying horses were seized by the 
bits by a strong and evidently masterly hand, for after a 
few fearful plunges, they yielded to firm hold, and stood 
quiet and resistless. 

Madame Alroyd, thoroughly alarmed at this fearful state 
of affairs, but without knowing the cause, hastily pulled 
dowui the carriage window, and strove in vain to see what 
was the trouble. 

^‘Thomas, what has occured?’*^ she asked, in a frightened 
voice. 

^‘Nothing much, mum; only the horses got a little unruly 
and one of the lamps went out, so I stopped to light it 
again,^^ replied a voice which madam thought did not sound 
quite natural, but laid it to the howling winds which ren- 
dered it almost impossible to hear. 

^‘Very well,’"’ she returned. ^^Light it again as soon as 
possible, for it is a fearful night, and I am anxious to gain 
a shelter. 

^^Yes, mum.^^ 

^^How far is it before we can reach one she con- 
tinued. 

About six or eight miles, said the man with a low 
chuckle, as he bent over the refractory lamp which would 
not light. (?) 

^"Blast it! there goes my last match, he added, as it 
flickered, flared, and went out. 

^‘Well, well, Thomas, never mind,^^ returned the lady, im- 
patiently. ^‘Let it go, and do the best you can with the 
other, only do hasten, for we are atmost frightened to death 
in this darkness, and long for a comfortable room, with 
cheerful lights and a fire.’^ 

^‘Yes, mum. All right, mum,^^ was the answer, as the 
man hastily climbed to his seat, and touched the horses with 
his whip, muttering with intense satisfaction. 


THRICE WEDDED. 


137 


^•Neat little job that! neat little job; though I would 
rather have liked to see what became of that stupid coach- 
man/^ 

The horses^ heads, during the struggle which had just oc- 
cured, had been adroitly turned to one side, and now in 
obedience to the reins, dashed on with the speed of the 
winds in an entirely different direction from that which 
they had been pursuing. 

In fact, our unsuspicious travelers were being conveyed 
back to the very place whence they had just come. 

On, on they sped through the nigh/s intense blackness, 
over a rough and uneven road, jolted and pitched from side 
to side, until they were ready to cry out with pain and 
fatigue. 

Two mortal hours, which they brought would never end, 
were spent in this manner, and then they drew up before 
a small white house, from the casement of which a single 
light was gleaming. 

The driver went to the door and rapped. 

His summons was immediately answered by a trim ser- 
vant girl, who demanded his business, though a close ob- 
server might hpe noticed the look of recognition which 
passed between them. 

He explained, loud enough for the inmates of the carriage 
to hear, their situation; and after a slight demur on the 
part of the girl, obtained permission for them to pass the 
night there. 

Going back to the coach, he stated that it was not a 
regular inn, only a little cottage in which lived a poor but 
honest family. 

Our weary travelers cared not whether it was inn or hovel, 
so that they could obtain rest, and quickly alighted, eagerly 
seeking the welcome shelter, when they found to their sur- 
prise a neat little parlor at their service, and a cheerful 
fire. 

Their spirits readily returned under these pleasant influ- 
ences, and when a tempting little supper of tea, toast, and 
chicken was added to their comforts, their faces fairly grew 
radiant with satisfaction. 

Having finished their meal, they spent an hour or more 
chatting cheerfully, and congratulating themselves upon 
their comfortable quarters. The same trim little servant 


Vj8 thuice wedded. 

then entered and signified her readiness to show them to 
their sleeping-room. 

Both felt their need of rest, and followed her to the 
apartment behind the one they had first entered, where 
they found a soft and inviting bed, hung with dainty white 
curtains, and everything fresh, sweet, and clean. They re- 
tired to rest, and soon their senses were locked fast in sound 
and refreshing slumber. 


CHAPTEE XXIV. 

BOEA^S SUEPEISE. 

Midnight found the night calm, quiet, lovely. 

The roaring winds had ceased, and the clouds had been 
suddenly swept aside by a master-hand, and the blue- 
vaulted heavens, studded with their sparkling gems, looked 
serenely down upon earth and sea. Our weary travelers lay 
wholly unconscious of the change without, their eyelids 
heavy with the weight of sleep, and their bodies cumbered 
with its powerful influence. 

But see! Suddenly their white-draped couch begins to 
move! Slowly, silently, steadily, it commences to descend! 

Heavens! Will not some one warn those unconscious 
sleepers? Will not some one bid them awake, arise, and 
flee ? 

Ah! but what could two such defenseless women do 
against the powers at work. 

They could not escape even should they awake, for the 
entrance to that innocent looking white cottage was closely 
guarded, and none could enter or retreat without the knowl- 
edge and consent of that rough, stern sentinel! 

Reader, you doubtless recognize the place as the same 
to which Robert Ellerton was so adroitly enticed and made 
a prisoner. 

The villain who had knocked madam^s faithful driver 
senseless from his seat had driven the unsuspecting women 
back, though by an unfrequented road, to the German set- 
tlement which they had but just left. And now they were 
in the power of a band of heartless villains, sleeping as 
calmly and sweetly as if no such thing as danger or 
treachery inhabited the earth ! 


I^BRIGE WEDDED. 


139 


Softly, gently as a tender mother would bear her slum- 
bering infant upon her bosom, their bed descended through 
the floor, down, down — twenty, yes, thirty feet, when 
it was received by fdur mufided figures and carefully wheeled 
to one side of a most gorgeous apartment, which contained 
every comfort and luxury that the most fastidious could de- 
sire; after which the trap noiselessly ascended to its place, 
leaving no crack or crevice by which its existence could 
possibly be detected! 

Immediately after the four mufiied forms silently glided 
from the room, leaving our friends to pass the remainder of 
the night unmolested. 

^ * * * Hi 

Late the next morning Dora opened her deep-blue eyes, 
and with one fair hand swept aside the spotless'lsurtain, and 
gazed out into the room. 

An expression of wondering admiration shone in her 
lovely orbs as she beheld the splendor, lighted by the many- 
jetted chandelier, which surrounded her, and she raised her 
hand as if to brush away some imaginary vision; but when 
she looked again the fair scene remained. 

Wich a breathless voice, and a quickly beating heart, she 
shook her aunt, and cried out: 

^^Auntie, auntie, wake up, and tell me what this means 

^‘What, child — what is it?^^ exclaimed the old lady, in a 
fright, sitting bolt upright in bed, and unable to get her 
eyes open, 

^‘Why, this lovely room ! — all these beautiful things ! 
Everything around us is gorgeous. This is not the room 
we came into last night. That was plain and homely, al- 
though neat and clean. And — why — but this is the same 
bed!^^ 

^‘Sure enough,^^ said Madame Alroyd, staring about with 
an amazed expression on her face. ^‘We are either be- 
witched,^^ she continued, ^^or our room has been entered 
during the night, and we borne off, bed and all, to an- 
other.’’^ 

^‘Oh, auntie, see what lovely pictures and statuettes — 
and just look at this lovely toilet set — was there ever any- 
thing so exauisiteT exclaimed the impulsive girl, who had 
sprung from her couch, and was pattering about in her little 
bare feet upon an exploring expedition, and filled with ad- 
miration at everything she saw. 


140 


TEMOE WmUDED. 


Bat madam was in a brown study. The change was as 
unaccountable as it was lovely, and she was deeply troubled 
and perplexed. What could be the motive for this complete 
transformation? 

The design could not have been robbery/ for there lay all 
their luggage right before them, while her watch and money 
were snugly tucked beneath her pillow, just where she 
had placed them before retiring. 

The more she strove to solve the mystery, the more puzzled 
she became. 

But she wisely resolved not to excite Dorans fears, until 
she saw something actually alarming. 

At this moment a servant swept aside the heavy curtain 
which covered the entrance to the room, and approached. 
But she sucWenly stopped upon seeing that little white-robed 
fairy who was flitting about the room, and a look of honest 
admiration settled over her face. 

Presently she went forward, and said, in a low, sweet 
voice: 

^^Can I assist mademoiselle about her toilet?” 

Dora gave a little scream of startled surprise, for she had 
not heard the girl’s light steps behind her. But seeing that 
it was not the same maid who had attended them the pre- 
vious night, she recovered her self-possession, and said: 

^^How you startled me, my good girl! But never mind. 
Where did you drop from and what is your name?^ 

^‘Nina, at your service; and I came in at the door,” was 
the reply. 

^‘Well, then, Nina, if that is so — for I did not know but 
that you had woke up and found yourself here, like our- 
selves — please tell me where we are, for I believe my head 
is nearly turned with so much beauty and elegance.” 

am happy to know that mademoiselle is pleased with 
her apartments,” returned Nina, evading Dora’s query. 

‘^Apartments? Is there more than one?” questioned 
Dora, in surprise. 

The girl stepped hastily forward, and seizing a heavy tas- 
sel, gave it a vigorous pull, and instantly two huge curtains 
slid apart, disclosing an elegant boudoir. 

^‘See!” she said. “This is for your accommodation, too.” 

“Oh-o-oh! Auntie, do come and see!” exclaimed the 
gratified girl, with a radiant face. Her features clouded 
again instantly, as she said: “But you have not yet 


THUICE WEDDED. 


141 


answered my question; you have not told me where I am/^ 

She tapped her foot impatiently, while she went on: 

^^It is all very nice to have these beautiful things at my 
command. But I want to know whose hospitality I am en- 
joying, all unasked. We were not in this place last night. 
Whose residence is this?^^ 

There was no retreat. The little maiden^s tone was very 
imperative, and there was an indignant sparkle in her blue 
eyes. 

^^You are in the palace of his lordship, the Baron Wei- 
chel,^^ answered Nina, dropping her eyes, while a guilty 
flush mounted to her brow, beneath the penetrating gaze of 
Miss Dupont. 

^‘But how came we here?’^ interrupted Madame Alroyd, 
with a sharp glance at her, as she noted her evident confu- 
sion. 

^^You were brought here by the baron^s own orders, 
madam. 

^^And what authority has he to order us here, I should 
like to know said the old lady, indignantly. ^^And an- 
other thing I want to have you explain to me; and that is, 
how were we brought here during the night without our 
knowledge 

^^His lordship arranged all that,^^ said Nina. 

‘^Well, then, I must say that his lordship is no gentle- 
man, to allow people to enter a room and remove its sleep- 
ing occupants, returned madam, with a good deal of as- 
perity. 

^‘No one entered your room to remove you, madam 

^^No one entered our room!^^ repeated the now angry 
woman, with hands upraised iu absolute astonishment. ‘‘Do 
you suppose you can make me believe such an unlikely story 
as that?’-^ 

“No, madam, unless you choose, was the humble reply. 

“I am all out of patience with you. Do, Dora, try and 
make her explain this mystery, urged Madame Alroyd, with 
a look of perplexity upon her face. 

And Dora, with a charming expression of good nature, 
which won the servant's heart at once, went up to her and 
said, sweetly: 

“Now, Nina, please to dress my hair; and, in the mean- 
time, tell us all you know about this singular transporta- 


142 


THRICE WEDDED. 


tion during the night. You must realize that it is a vei'y 
trying situation to us.^^ 

Dora seated herself, and the girl went to work, with nim- 
ble and willing fingers, to bind up and arrange her abun- 
dant golden tresses; and after a few moments^ hesitation, 
replied: 

^‘Mademoiselle must excuse me, for I cannot answer her 
question.’^ 

“Why not?^^ asked Miss Dupont, with a pout upon her 
red lips. 

“Because — because the chief — I mean his lordship — will 
do that,’^ stammered Nina, in confusion. 

Dora was startled from her seat by a sharp shriek from 
her aunt, who sprang frantically from the bed, wringing 
her hands, and exclaiming: 

“The chief! the chief! Do you hear, Dora? — the chief! 
Oh, heavens! we are in the hands of a band of robbers — in 
the hands of those awful smugglers that we heard about at 
the hotel! I see it all now — the trouble with the horses, 
their plunging and rearing; that dreadful noise as of some 
one falling; the unnatural tones of the driver, which was 
not Thomas at all! All — all is as plain as day to me now. 
Oh, Dora, Dora, my darling, we are lost!^^ 

Dora, with a pale face, turned to Nina, and demanded 
sternly: 

“Girl, what have you to say? Is what my aunt suspects 
the truth ?^^ 

“Ah! pardon, pardon, mademoiselle, but I dare not tellT^ 
cried the poor girl, with streaming eyes and clasped hands, 
for she was touched to the heart with their cruel distress. 

“It is enough answered our heroine, her very lips be- 
coming white as marble, and her heart sinking with despair 
at what she imagined their fate would be. Then suddenly 
assuming a haughty, defiant air, she added, “Go at once 
and tell your chief that I desire his presence imme- 
diately 

“Oh, my lady, do not blame poor Nina, for she would 
gladly serve you if she could. But my lot is that of a slave 
here, and I dare not disobey, lest my life pay the forfeit. 
Were it not for my own dear mistress, I would gladly 
die.^^ 

“What!^^ almost shrieked Dora, “are there others here, 
in the same situation with ourselves?"^ 


rmiCE WEEDED. 


143 


mademoiselle, there are seven as lovely laaies here 
as ever the sun shone upon/^ 

^‘Oh, heavens! and how long have they been held captive 
in such a place 

^‘Some have been here three or four years; some not as 
long, but one has lived here many years. But I must not 
tell you more, lest I be overheard; only do not blame me 
for what you suffer,’^ she entreated, heaving a deep sigh. 

^^My poor child 1^^ said Madame Alroyd, soothingly, while 
a shudder quivered through her frame. ^‘We cannot re- 
gard you with any other feeling than that of pity. And 
rest assured, should kind Providence send friends to our res- 
cue, we will not forget you and your poor mistress. 

The grateful girl seized her hand and kissed it passion- 
ately, and immediately glided from the room. 

The two terror-stricken ladies then made a hasty toilet, 
and sat down with fear and trembling, to await the appear- 
ance of the much dreaded chief. 

Presently Nina returned and said: 

^‘The chief desires that you will partake of your break- 
fast, which is waiting; after which your request shall be at- 
tended to.^' 

She parted another set of curtains, and revealed beyond 
an elegant breakfast-room, in which a table was daintily 
spread for two. 

Dora walked proudly within, without uttering a word in 
reply. Madam timidly followed, and they seated them- 
selves, going through the ceremony of eating, being atten- 
tively waited on by the faithful girl. 

When the repast was ended, Nina seized a tiny silver 
whistle that lay upon the table and blew it, and instantly 
a page entered and removed the service, followed by the 
girl. 

Not many minutes elapsed, and Dora saw the drapery 
which hid the entrance move; then there was a sound, as 
of persons whispering. 

She held her breath — she felt that the decisive moment 
had arrived. 

A fair, white, shapely hand parted the curtains; a trim, 
finely formed foot was upon the threshold, and for an in- 
stant our heroine^s head grew dizzy, while a mist vailed her 
eyes; but with a mighty effort she conquered the faintness, 


144 


THRICE WEDDED. 


and drew her queenly little form to its fullest height^ and 
waited for the appearance of her dreaded visitor. 

The drapery was swept entirely aside, and a cry of indig- 
nant surprise parted her lips as she fixed her eyes upon the 
figure before her. 


CHAPTEK XXV. 

DEFIAKCE. 

Well might Dora Dupont cry out, for she recognized in 
the handsome face and form of the man who stood beneath 
that arched entrance, her rejected suitor and enemy, Kalph 
Moulton. 

Utterly overcome by his sudden and unwelcome presence, 
her trembling limbs refused to support her, and she sank 
weak and faint upon a sofa which stood behind her. 

A look of intense love, followed by one of triumph, 
flashed over his dark, fine face, as his gaze fell upon the 
lovely girl before him. 

Madame Alroyd, who had half risen as he entered, now 
sank into her seat again, exclaiming: ^ 

*^Mr. Moulton! and here too!^^ 

^^Yes, madam, he replied, with a smile and a graceful 
bow; ^^and I trust that I find you well this morning.^' Then 
turning composedly to Dora, he added: '^Miss Dora, allow 
me to congratulate you upon your fine looks, although I per- 
ceive that traveling has robbed you of some of vour former 
bloom.^^ 

He seated himself carelessly, though his restless eyes de- 
voured every expression of her marble face. 

She had by this time recovered her self-possession some- 
what, and rising with proud hauteur, she said, in icy tones: 

^^To what circumstance am I to attribute this untimely 
visit, Mr. Moulton ? It was my desire to have an interview 
with the chief of this place. I am now awaiting his 
presence. 

^^The chief you will not see this morning. Miss Dupont; 
and you are to attribute this visit from me to your own fair 
aelf, and the love I bear you.^^ 

She waved her hand with a gesture of scornful impatience 
and said: 


THRICE WEDDED. 


145 


^‘That subject was long since forbidden between us.” 

^‘Nay, my fair one, I could not receive your cruel answer 
as final; and if you remember right, you know I told you 
that I should at some future time renew my suit. And I 
am here this morning to plead again, that you will consent 
to be my wife. Madam, have I your permission to address 
your niece he said, turning quickly to Dorans aunt. 

^‘It must be as she says, Mr. Moulton. I trust all such 
matters to her own heart and judgment,” she returned, 
coldly. 

^‘Very well, then to her I will appeal,^^ turning to our 
heroine again. 

^‘How came you in this place, sir?” she demanded. 

^‘Why, I came here the same as I would go anywhere, but 
my object was to meet you.” 

^‘Ahl perhaps Mr. Moulton has something to do with our 
captivity here,” said Dora, shooting a wicked glance at him 
from her flashing eyes. 

^^Possibly he may have,” he returned, with a smile and a 
bow. 

^‘Thank you, sir; you are very kind. You have taken a 
load from my mind,” she answered, in a relieved tone. 

^‘How so?” he asked, surprised. 

feared I had been brought here by a set of lawless rob- 
bers, and that my honor would be the sacrifice; but, I 
assure you, I fear no such craven as yourself,” she said, in a 
voice of intense sarcasm. 

He colored angrily at the scorn and irony which her look 
and tone betrayed, and replied : 

did not come here to be scorned and abused. Miss Du- 
pont. I came to offer you marriage, honorable and true, 
together with a heart as faithful as ever beat in the breast of 
one mortal for another. In a word, I have come to ask you 
to be my wife!” 

Dora stood in a graceful attitude, her pretty head raised 
just a trifle more than was natural, her little hands coquet- 
tishly clasped before her, and one tiny blue velvet slipper 
peeping out from beneath her white robe, while her eyes 
were fixed in a cold, unflinching gaze upon his own. 

She did not reply, as he ceased speaking, but stood calmly 
regarding him, as if waiting for him to continue. 

His eyes wavered, and finally drooped, and he saidj while 
he moved uneasily in his chair: 


146 


THRICE WEBBED. 


*’Do you understand my proposition, Miss Duponi?^^ 
do, sirT^ 

•^And do you accept it?^^ 
do not, sir!'^ 

^^Do I understand that you refuse me a second time?^^ 

^^Utterly and forever!^^ she answered, without once 
changing her position, or removing her eyes from his face. 

"‘Dora 

‘^Allow me to correct you, sir. My name is Miss Du- 
pont. 

warn you not to exasperate me beyond endurance, he 
returned, angrily. 

Just the least little bit of a sneer curled her red lips 
at this threat, but he saw it, and said, with sudden deter- 
mination : 

will give you five minutes in which to reconsider your 
answer, after which, if it is not favorable, I shall not hesitate 
to take the matter into my own hands. Possibly you re- 
member the oath I took in your presence the night of your 
birthday entertainment.^^ 

He uttered these last words in a meaning tone, at the same 
time taking an elegant gold watch from his pocket to note 
the time. 

She did remember the oath he referred to, and she grew a 
shade paler, but by no other sign did she show that she felt 
or noticed his vrords, and remained standing in the same 
cold, calm attitude during the whole five minutes. 

^‘Miss Dupont, your time is up!^^ at length said Ealph 
Moulton, in a gentler voice than he had hitherto used. 

He thought he really and truly loved this beautiful crea- 
ture, and his heart softened toward her a little, for he knew 
she suffered in spite of her apparent indifference. 

She made no reply, nor moved a muscle. 

He regarded her in perplexity for a moment, then arose 
and went and stood before her. 

‘‘Will you be my wife.^^^ 

“No, sirP 

“Beware! Do you mean it?" 

“Most emphatically! And now, if you are done with your 
persecution, I can dispense with your society." 

“By heavens, I woiPt bear this! I have sworn that you 
shall be mine, and I will not give you up!" he exclaimed, 
excitedly. Then turning to Madame Alroyd, he continued^ 


THRICE WEbmi), 14 ? 

'Madam, will you not use your influence before it is too 
late. Her fate is in my hands, but I have no desire to use 
my power, if by any possible means she can be induced to 
yield willingly/' 

Madam cast an appealing glance at Dora; but there was 
no encouragement to be gathered from her inflexible fea- 
tures, and with a bitter sigh she remained silent. 

Cursing both of them in his heart, Ralph bent toward 
Dora, and said in a low, concentrated voice: 

“Listen! This evening you are to become my wife. 
Everything is arranged, and at seven o'clock the clergyman 
will be present to perform the ceremony. Nothing can save 
you; your fate is sealed." 

He had no reason to complain of her want of animation 
now, for instantly neck, cheek, and brow were flooded with 
an angry crimson, and with a gesture of intense loathing 
she cried: 

“You dare not do this thing! I will defy you at the 
very altar, and no clergyman wilh pronounce the banns 
against my will." 

“My darling, you will do no such thing; it would be very 
improper," he laughed, lightly, glorying in her proud, bril- 
liant beauty. 

“Villain, you shall see," she retorted, snapping her small 
pearly teeth savagely together. 

“Shall I, my beautiful one? Very well, I shall come for 
you a little before the time; and in the meantime some suit- 
able attire shall be provided for you. I would not have my 
bride disgrace the occasion, for we are to have a 'gay com- 
pany' at our wedding." 

“I will die first!" she said, passionately. 

“You see that lady sitting there — your only friend — your 
benefactress? Well, the moment you attempt your life, she 
dies. And should you refuse to be my wife when we come 
before the clergyman, she will be instantly shot by a con- 
cealed foe. I told you truly when I said your fate was 
sealed. Will you defy me now?" 

“Oh, merciful Heaven! I am, lost — ^lost!" shrieked the 
miserable girl, in a heart-rending voice, as she sank back 
half fainting upon her seat. 

Madame Alroyd sprang frantically forward, and clasping 
her convulsively in her arms, cried out: 

“No, no, my precious darling, it shall not bel You shall 


148 


TBlilCE WEDDED. 


not sacrifice your life and happiness for such an old and 
worthless thing as 1. You shall defy him at the very altar 

Then turning with a sort of scornful majesty to Kalph, 
she added: 

^‘You can have my life and welcome, but you must spare 
this poor stricken child. She shall never be your wife!^^ 

‘‘And do you think, madam, she would be allowed to es- 
cape me, even if your life were sacrificed? No, I want her, 
not you. I have sworn that mine she shall be, and nothing 
can turn me aside from the accomplishment of my oath. So 
prepare yourselves to carry out gracefully the plan for this 
evening.'-^ 

With these heartless words Ealph Moulton turned and 
disappeared from the room. 

“Oh, merciful Father! sustain me in this trying hour,^^ 
moaned the fainting girl, as she sank unconscious to the 
floor. 

For hours she lay in this blessed stupor, and only re- 
vived to be arrayed for her bridal. 


CHAPTER XXVL 

EKID CHICHESTER. 

As Ralph withdrew from the presence of those heart- 
broken women, and was swiftly passing along the narrow 
corridor to his own apartment, he ran against a fairy 
form. 

She was half enveloped in a cloud of gauzy, spotless lace 
and dainty ribbons, which she carried in her arms. 

With a startled cry, she staggered and would have fallen, 
had not his quickly outstretched hand caught and upheld 
her. 

Ralph was rewarded by a sweet “thank you,'^ and a 
glimpse of a pair of lovely purple-black eyes, which for a 
moment were roguishly upturned to his, and then vailed 
beneath their long silken fringes, which drooped low upon 
her fair, soft cheek. 

“I beg your pardon, lady,^^ said he, gallantly, as he noted 
her exceeding beauty. “It was verv awkward in me to be 
so heedless. 


THRICE WEDDED. 


U9 


harm done, sir, except the tumbling of my lace^ a 
little. And that my dear maid can easily remedy, replied 
the girl, in clear, bell-like tones, while a deeper color suf- 
fused her face, as she noticed the look of ardent admira- 
tion. 

Her manner was that of a high-bred lady, while 
her pure English accent showed her to be of that 
origin. 

“May I ask is this in honor of the bridal to-night?^’ hr 
cunningly asked, as he touched the finery in her arms. 

“Yes,^^ and she laughed a little gleeful laugh; theu 
added, “We do not often have an opportunity to grace ^ 
wedding here,^^ so all are striving to look their sweetest and 
best to-night. 

“You say we; are there more young ladies like yourseit 
here?” 

“Yes, oh, yes,” with a deep sigh and a look of sadness. 
“There are seven, besides the poor young lady who wa;» 
brought here last evening, and who is to be forced into ? 
marriage to-night.” 

“How do you know that the lady is opposed to fhe union ?^‘ 
he asked, flushing deeply. 

“Oh, we found it out, through Nina, who is my maid, 
and whom I lent to wait upon this unfortunate lady. She 
says she is the loveliest person she has ever seen, and my 
faithful girl sobbed like a child while telling me of it.” 

“Does she not even except her fair mistress, when she 
lavishes so much praise upon the captive?” asked Kalph, 
with a gaze she could not misinterpret. 

“Ah! but Nina loves me, and besides, I do not allow her 
to flatter!” replied the little lady, with an air of reserved 
dignity. 

“I beg pardon again. I realize that I am very unfortu- 
nate to-day in my words, as well as my motions. But do 
you know the gentleman whom this fair young girl is to 
wed?" 

“No, but I think him a heartless wretch!” she returned, 
with blazing cheeks and flashing eyes, while her little foot 
came down with a decided pat upon the floor. 

“Why so, my little friend?” 

^Tf I were a man do you think I would wish to marry a 
girl who scorned my love? If it be for revenge that he 
wishes to wed her, and darken forever her bright young 


loO 


mniCB WEDDEA 


life, why, he is more vile than anght else in the world. But 
to profess to love and wed one who loathed me, my pride 
would never let rne bow so low as that!’^ 

^‘But,^^ urged Ralph, uneasily, ^‘look at the case in a dif- 
ferent light. Suppose this man had taken a solemn oath 
that this lovely being should be his wife, what then?^^ 

This little dark-eyed lady was showing him up in colors, 
altogether too truthful to be agreeable, though he could j 
but admire her for her spirit and honesty, and already hej 
felt his passion for Dora beginning to cool beneath the* 
charms of The more brilliant, yet not more lovely, girl by 
his side. 

should say,^^ she replied, in answer to his question, 
^That his oath was a most unworthy one, and were better 
broken than kept. But excuse me. I forget that I am 
talking very plainly to an entire stranger, and with a 
haughty little bow she was turning away when his voice ar- 
rested her. 

^^Stay, please, and I will introduce myself according to 
rule. I should have done so before, but my awkwardness 
in obstructing your path has put to flight all my ideas of 
etiquette. I am Ralph Moulton, at your service/^ 

He bowed low and gracefully before her as he spoke, for, 
in spite of her surroundings, he recognized her as a lady 
noble and pure. Then he added, ^^Will you kindly return 
the favor 

‘^Certainly. My name is Enid Chichester.^^ 

^‘And are you and your companions retained as captives 
here? But I need not ask, for doubtless you are.^^ 

‘^Yes. I have not seen my bright, beautiful home for 
two weary years. 

Two sparkling drops struggled up from the liquid depths 
of her lovely eyes, and rolled like gems over her flushed 
cheeks, hiding themselves within the folds of the fleecy 
robes in her hands. 

A strange expression gleamed within Ralph Moulton^s 
eyes as he gazed upon her emotion. One might interpret it 
thus: 

If he had but seen this lovely, friendless little fairy before 
he had gone to such extremes with Dora," he thought he 
could have found all the consolation he wished in her 
smile. 

With a sigh, half of regret for himself, and the other 


THRICE WEDDED. 


151 


half of sympathy for her, Ealph Moulton asked, in a low 
tone: 

^^Would you accept freedom. Miss Chichester, could it be 
obtained for you ?” 

^‘Would I accept it? Oh, Heaven grant me but this one 
boon, and no sacrifice would be too great to testify my 
gratitude P 

^^My friend, he whispered, bending nearer, so that his 
own dark locks mingled with hers. ^‘Listen. Prepare your- 
self for the change, and your wish shall be gratified. I 
pledge you my word that it shall be so.^^ 

^^Will you? Oh, thanks, thanksT^ 

She dropped her laces all in a heap upon the floor, and 
clasping her hands impulsively around his arm, bowed her 
dainty head, and sobbed like a child. 

Ealph Moulton quivered in every nerve beneath her touch, 
and the color mounted hotly to his brow. He thought to 
clasp her in his arms and comfort her, dry her tears, and 
win back her smile. 

But he dared not do it; from his very soul he respected 
this pure girl, and felt himself unworthy even to touch her 
robes. If he had not made that rash vow, or even if 
he had not had this last interview with Dora, all would be 
well. 

He began to feel as if the net he had spread for others was 
becoming entangled about himself, and the chains which 
he had prepared for our heroine were beginning to gall him 
severely. 

Cupid w^as busy at work, but — would he win? 

Enid Chichester wept unrestrainedly for a few moments. 
The hope was so unexpected, she had schooled her heart so 
long to bear her lot, that this sudden rift in the clouds, re- 
vealing the brightness beyond, was too dazzling to her sor- 
row-shadowed soul, wholly overpowering her. 

At last she started suddenly, and said, in a quivering, 
grateful voice: 

‘^Oh, Mr. Moulton! it was so unexpected I could not help 
it, and you have my deepest gratitude, even though you 
should not succeed. 

The look which she shot at him contained something 
stronger than mere gratitude. 

am a stranger to you, Miss Chichester. Are you sure 
that you can trust yourself to me. I fear you look upon me 


152 


THRICE WEDDED. 


as being really better than I ani/^ he said, searching her face 
closely, and with a rather remorseful tone. 

know I can/^ she answered, confidently. 

^‘But should I happen to do something, between this and 
the time that I could effect your escape, that seemed to you 
most unworthy — that would merit perhaps your sternest dis- 
approbation — what then V 

She looked at him for a moment, with a puzzled air, then 
smilingly replied: 

“'If you should — if I should be very, very much displeased 
with you for anything you might do, still I should feel that 
there was some good in you — that you were noble and kind 
at heart — and I should not fear to trust you.^^ 

“I thank you, and bless you for your words. I feel them 
more deeply than I can express, returned Ealph, the tears 
actually springing to his eyes at so much trust and confi- 
dence. 

He pressed her little hand reverently, and hearing foot- 
steps approaching, he hastily left her, saying he would see 
her again, and passed on to his room, sadder and more dis- 
satisfied with himself than he had ever been in his life. 

He was not all bad, as she had said. There was a germ 
of truth and goodness within his heart which, if nourished 
and tended in the sunshine of purity and love, might yet 
bloom with beauty and fragrance. 


CHAPTEE XXVIL 

AM OME OF THEM.^' 

Early on the morning of the same day on which Ealph im- 
parted his diabolical design to our heart-broken heroine, 
two men sat in the room back of the one which was occu- 
pied by Squire Moulton and his nejihew, at the inn before 
spoken of. 

We recognize them at once — one as its former occupant, 
Eonald Edgerton, who now sits without his previous disguise; 
and the other as Eredrich Weimher, Dorans former friend 
and lover. 

The latter had only a few days before returned from his 
foreign tour, and immediately on arriving, his first inquiry 
had been for his old friend, Eobert Ellerton. 


mniCE WEDDED. 


153 


He had intended to arrive in season to be present at the 
commencement exercises, but was unavoidably detained. 
He was deeply disappointed, for he knew well enough that 
his friend would take the first honors, and he wished to be 
among the first to congratulate him upon his success. 

Unlike his rival, Ealph Moulton, his noble nature re- 
pelled the idea of allowing a feeling of jealousy and ill-will 
to spring up in his heart because the object of his love re- 
fused to listen to his suit. 

When Ferdrich Weimher was informed of EoberFs sud- 
den disappearance, and also its cause — for in some myste- 
rious way it had leaked out, in defiance of Mr. Ellerton^s 
reticence upon the subject — he was astonished beyond ex- 
pression. 

But when he learned that his father also had vanished in 
the same unaccountable manner, together with the horse 
which he had hired for his ride — and, stranger than all 
else, leaving his luggage behind him — he looked grave and 
troubled. 

He felt convinced that all was not right, that there was 
foul play somewhere, and resolved to set himself about un- 
raveling the mystery. 

Eonald Edgerton, on hearing of his interest in the mat- 
ter, sought him out, and taking him to his room, related 
all he knew of the affair, together with what he had over- 
heard in the closet which communicated with the plotter's 
room. 

‘^1 know the young man you speak of,'^ replied Fredrich 
Weimher, in reply to the other's story. met him several 
times in N^ew York; he is very fine looking, though his 
principles are none of the best; still I always felt that there 
was some good about him. I knew of his admiration for 
Miss Dupont, and now you say he is going to force her into 
a marriage with him.'*' 

‘‘Yes, I heard him swear it!" returned the man, with a 
look of pain upon his rough but fine-looking face. 

“But they have left the plaee, I hear," said Fredrich. 

“They started to leave the place last night," replied Edg- 
erton, in a whisper, “but were intercepted about five miles 
from here, their driver knocked senseless from his seat, 
which was immediately occupied by another man, and the 
unfortunate ladies driven off to a place of security." 

“How do you know all this?" 


lU 


TBnWE WEDDED. 


^‘Partly from the coachman himself, whom I discovered 
lying half dead upon the ground, where he had fallen, and 
partly from my own knowledge of what is transpiring among 
these regions/^ 

^"Where is the man now?'^ asked Fredrich. 

^‘He is safe, and under good care; and no one knows any- 
thing about the affair except those who have the charge of 
him and myself. Of course,^^ he added, mean aside from 
those who instigated the deed.'^'^ 

‘‘Who do you think are the instigators? Do you think 
the Moultons would dare commit such an act, and if so, 
where have they carried their captives 

“I know that, personally. Squire Moulton and his nephew 
had nothing to do with the abduction, but that it was some 
one or two of the smugglers who did it for them, and for 
their money. I also know where they are at the present mo- 
ment.^' 

“The smugglers?^^ ejaculated Fredrich Weimher, spring- 
ing eagerly to his feet. “Ah! I know where their den is, and 
we will organize a party at once, and go to the rescue of my 
friend and his bride. 

“But how will you enter their den, as you call it? That 
is a secret which but very few even of their own band is pos- 
sessed of.'’^ 

“How do you know?^^ demanded Fredrich Weimher, re- 
garding the man searchingly. 

“Because I an; one of them,^^ he replied, boldly meeting 
his glance. 

“You!^^ 

“Yes, ir 

“Then you are, after all, an enemy to those whom I would 
serve,^^ returned Fredrich, sternly. 

The strange man smiled, and Fredrich Weimher, fearing 
that he had been willfully duped, said sharply: 

“Do you mean me to understand that you are in league 
against these people?^' 

“To that question I can answer both yes and no,’^ he 
calmly returned. “1 am a friend, and yet I am an enemy.’" 

“Explain yourself.’^ 

“I will; listen. I have followed these Moultons every- 
where for a long time, for I know what their aim has been. 
I have watched every footstep since they came here, but in 
a complete and safe disguise. Look!’^ 


THRICE WEDDED. 


155 


He opened the drawer in the table before which they sat, 
and, taking out a wig and heavy pair of whiskers, put them 
on. 

^^Ah! I should never know you for the same man,^^ 
exclaimed Fredrich, in surprise; then asked, ^"But why is 
this disguise necessary? Do they know you?’^ 

‘‘Because/’ he answered, as he removed the wig and 
whiskers and replaced them in the drawer, “I have been a 
sort of ally of the squire^s in my present character, and am 
therefore in the secret of what he is up to.^^ 

"'My friend, if I indeed can call you so, you surprise me 
more and more; you are a mystery, and I scarcely know 
whether to call you friend or toe,” said Weimher, with a 
troubled look. 

"‘I will soon convince you with regard to that,^^ returned 
Edgerton, with a peculiar smile. "I have told you that I 
am one of the smugglers^ band, and I will now explain how 
it happens. Some few years ago, while I was in the United* 
States, I came across a couple of fellows — I call them fellows, 
because they appeared to be rough, rude men when I first 
saw them, though they had known better days. They were 
sons of an Italian nobleman, and were on the track of this 
very self-same squire. Ah! I tell you he has been a wicked 
one in his day,^^ said the man, with a gleam of hate in 
his eye. 

"I believe you; but go on,^^ returned Fredrich, earnestly. 

"It seems that he, Moulton, had married their only sister 
secretly, and then, on discovering that her father was insol- 
vent, deserted her, proclaiming t^heir marriage a farce, and 
leaving her to bear alone the cruel sufferings of poverty and 
childbirth. She died when the child was born — a beautiful 
girl, the image of her mother — and the brothers took their 
oath that they would hunt the villain to his death. They 
had a small fortune of their own, but spent it all before 
they had got any trace of him, and as a last resort joined 
this band of smugglers, which has branches all over the 
world; but this place seems to be the principal rendezvous, 
and I assure you it is no "den,^ but a veritable palace. People 
have an idea that it is somewhere in the region of that ledge 
of rocks yonder, and have sought it for years, but have been 
wholly unsuccessful as yet. 

"As I was saying, these Italians were on some business 
for the band when I came across them^ and^ learning their 


THRICE WEDDED. 


166 

tf^iory and object, I told them mine, at the same time ex- 
pressing a wish to join them. They gladly took me as 
a companion, and since then I have worked in unison with 
them/^ 

^^But I do not understand yet why you should be such an 
enemy to him. How has he injured you?^'’ 

^^No, I suppose you donT; but wait awhile and I shall come 
to that part of it.'’^ 

He arose as he spoke, and going to his toilet-stand, rub- 
bed something over his face and then washed it thoroughly; 
he then brushed his rough locks in the style of the present 
day, then removed a heavy pair of eyebrows and his mustache, 
and, going to his wardrobe, exchanged his rough smuggler^’s 
jacket for a finer and more stylish covering. 

Not until he had made a complete transformation did he 
again turn to his visitor, who had been watching him curi- 
ously during these strange proceedings. 

‘^Zounds!"'’ exclaimed Fredrich AVeimher, more than ever 
astonished, and gazing in perplexity at the wonderful 
change which he had effected. ^‘Who are you, that you 
adopt so readily and so cleverly such different characters?” 

It was no wonder that he exclaimed, for the transforma- 
tion was more complete than the previous disguise had 
been. 

Edgerton had washed off the swarthy hue that had hith- 
erto been upon his face, revealing a clear though rather dark 
complexion. His eyes, which before with their heavy eye- 
brows had looked fierce and evil, now had a mild and genial 
expression, and his mouth was very handsome, the lips be- 
ing thin and finely curved, which, with the change in his 
apparel, made him look like a highly educated, intelligent, 
and polished gentleman. 

^^Listen, my friend,” he said, seating himself again, still 
In his new character; ^^you shall know’ my whole story be- 
fore we part, and then judge for yourself whether I am an 
interested party in the treacherous plot this gray-headed 
sinner is at work upon.” 

He ground his white, even teeth as he uttered these last 
words. 

“^Do you know, sir, that there is a familiar look about 
you since this last change. I think I must have met you 
before somewhere,” said Fredrich Weimher, regarding his 
companion earnestly. 


THRICE WEDDED. 


157 


I think not,” he returned, with a smile. you 

may be able to account for that familiarity when I tell you 
who I really am. Come nearer, for I would not have even 
a breath of what I am about to relate heard, before the time 
comes for me to reveal myself. My name is 

He dropped his voice to the lowest whisper, and Fredrich 
Weimher sprang to his feet, startled and amazed. 

‘Hlushr said his companion; ^^you have not yet heard 
all.^^ 

Then he continued to speak in low, rapid tones for nearly 
half an hour. 

When he had finished, the young man sat looking at him 
in wondering silence for a moment, then grasping his hand, 
he shook it warmly, while a smile of sympathetic triumph 
suffused his face as he exclaimed: 

see it all now! I understand! Oh, I almost envy you 
your triumph; and yet there must be something of bitter- 
ness in it. But I trust all is not as bad as you anticipate, 
and that it will all end well.^^ 

^‘Heaven grant it!^’ returned the strange man, earnestly, 
while a tear for a moment dimmed his fine eye. ^‘But we 
must to work at once,^^ he added, with energy, ^Tor they 
will make quick business now they have the game in their 
hands, you may be sure, and the odds are against us.^^ 

^^How so? It seems to me that it will be a very easy mat- 
ter to raise a company of daring men, enter their den, and 
release the captives, said Fredrich. 

^^Yes, but there is the trouble. How are we going to 
enter it?^^ 

^^Do you not know the way ?^^ asked the young man, in 
surprise. 

know the entrance by the way of the water well 
enough, but not that by land. But it will be necessary for 
a party to enter both ways, for there are so many passages 
and secret doors that they will escape us unless they find 
themselves between two fires. My plan is for you to go one 
way and I the other, and if no alarm is given before we 
reach the principal room, to station a guard before each 
entrance to it; and then it will be impossible for them to 
resist us.^^ 

"‘But why before this particular room?^' 

- ""Because I heard it hinted that the ceremony is to be 


158 


THRICE WEDDED. 


performed at seven to-night, and in that case every one will 
be there to witness it/' 

“Heavens! we have got to work with a will. I think 
your plan is excellent, though I know nothing of the inte- 
rior of this wonderful place; but I can solve the difficulty 
about the land entrance easily enough. 

‘^YouP returned Eonald Edgerton, amazed. 

We must continue to know this man of triple character 
by that name, at least for the present. 

“Yes, I, for strange though it may seem, I know of one 
way to enter that place, and I believe it is the principal one 
too. I will tell you how it happened: 

“Several years ago I was straying about that ledge of 
rocks, hunting up geological specimens, when I saw strange 
maneuvering among some men at the base of them. I re- 
solved to know what was going on, and crept slyly toward 
the place, shielding myself as well as I could from observa- 
tion by the rocks and bushes. Nearer and nearer I went, 
until I could hear their voices quite plainly, and at length 
I made a bold push, darted across an open space like the 
wind, and crouched panting and half frightened behind a 
rock so near them that I could see every face, and hear 
every word that was spoken. You can imagine that my 
alarm was somewhat increased when at something that was 
said I discovered them to be the smugglers that I had heard 
so much about. I was half tempted to retreat, but feared 
they would see me, and there was just danger enough in 
my situation to give spice to the adventure, so I resolved to 
remain in my hiding-place until they were gone, and learn 
all I could. 

“Presently I saw a little fellow go three paces forward 
alone, then stamp three time upon the ground. Suddenly 
it seemed as if a portion of the solid rock was swmng back 
upon a pivot ; the men entered, and the rock closed again. 
I thought I would just creep forward and examine this 
strange entrance into the solid granite, and accordingly went 
cautiously toward the place. I stood, as nearly as I could 
judge, upon the spot where I saw the boy stand. I then 
walked three paces forward, and carefully examined the sur- 
face of the rock before me. 

“It was some time before I could make out anything. 
Then I found a very fine crack, and tracing it, found it sur- 
rounded a nearly square block of stone, about five or six feet 


mnic^ wmjDEi). 


each way. I was very much delighted with my discovery, 
for I felt convinced that I had now found out the much 
talked of smugglers^ cave, that so many people had tried in 
vain to find. 

‘^But my joy was suddenly turned into terror, as a 
heavy hand was laid upon my shoulder, and a gruff voice 
demanded: 

‘Well, youngster, what are you looking for here?^ 

“ ‘I — I — was hunting for specimens,^ I replied, in con- 
fusion, while my heart beat like a trip-hammer. 

“^‘No use trying to come that, you little Paul Pry. IVe 
been watching you for some minutes, and I rather think you 
have got yourself into a scrape with your meddlesome dis- 
position.^ 

“He shook me roughly, and I began to think my doom 
was surely sealed, for he made as though he was about to 
give the signal to enter the cave. But I begged so piteously 
to be let off, promising I would never tell what I had seen, 
that after a few moments spent in meditation he said: 

“ ‘Well, then, down on your knees, and swear that you 
will never tell any one where the entrance you have dis- 
covered is.^ 

“I immediately obeyed, glad enough to get off on any 
terms, and then he let me go. 

“I assure you I never ventured within a mile of that re- 
gion alone again, and I have kept my promise not to tell 
any one what I saw. I shall still keep my oath, and not 
tell, but I shall now avail myself of the knowledge I pos- 
sess, and go and force an entrance with a strong party at my 
heels. 

“My young friend, you are really very fortunate, said 
Edgerton, who had been much interested in his account. 
“Your knowledge will be of great service, for we shall 
surely capture this notorious band, which for so many years 
has overrun the country, and done so much wickedness. It 
is settled, then. I will blockade the entrance from the 
water, while you force the one by land. In this way we 
shall take them by surprise, and everything will work to our 
advantage. I will go now and enlist my men, and if I have 
the opportunity give a hint of what we are up to, to the 
Italian brothers. They will greatly facilitate the work for 
us. In the meantime do you make your preparations, and 
remember one thing, to go well armed. We may not need 


160 


THRICE WEDDED. 


to fight at all, for if things are as I think they are, the whole 
band (or what there is of them at home now) will be 
unarmed while they witness the ceremony. In that case 
they will all be at our mercy. Still, we must not neglect to 
take plenty of weapons. 

^‘Very well; where shall we meet asked Fredrich 
Weimher, his handso^ne face all aglow with excitement. 
will have the men scattered near the place; it will not do 
to have them go in a body, lest some of the band should 
see them and give the alarm. I will notify them to se- 
crete themselves near the spot, with the understanding that 
when they hear a short, sharp whistle, they collect directly 
behind the little cottage, where you say the entrance is. Of 
course you will have to be on the lookout and choose your 
time. At the same time, I, on hearing the signal, will enter 
the passage in boats from the sea with my own men.^^ 

^^That is well. And now at what hour shall I give the 
signal 

little before seven will be a good hour; it is quite dark 
at that time. I will go at once and make arrangements, for 
we have no time to lose.^^ 

With which words Eonald Edgerton arose, resumed his 
disguise, and both departed to prepare for the exciting and 
perilous adventure of the evening. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

^^TOO LATE.” 

Seven o^clock came, and Dora sat, pale as the robes in 
which she was arrayed, awaiting the appearance of her 
persecutor, who was to lead her forth to such a heartless 
sacrifice. 

Very, very lovely she looked in her misty dress of costly 
lace over glimmering satin. 

Xina, ever ready to entertain, had related the history of 
those fatal robes while decking our wretched heroine. 

She shuddered as she heard the story, and felt as if she 
were being arrayed in a shroud instead of bridal attire. 

The dress had" been provided for a beautiful lady, brought 
there like Dora against her will, and whom on seeing, one 
of the smugglers had t>ecome very much enamored with, 
and desired to marry her. She indignantly refused his 
suit, but preparations were made fer the bridal, the dress 


THRICE WEDDED. 


lei 

and its paraphernalia were all in readiness, but when the 
time came the bride was missing. 

Every vault and passage was explored, but without suc- 
cess, until at last her body was found floating in the sea. 

She had found a passage leading to it, and had cast her- 
self into it rather than become the bride of such a wretch. 

Poor Dora! no wonder her heart shrunk within her at 
this sad story. But she would gladly have followed 
the unfortunate lady^s example had the opportunity of- 
fered. 

Only once did she betray the slightest interest about her 
apparel, and that was when Nina placed a very large casket 
before her, and opening it, began to fasten the elegant jew- 
els which lay within it upon her person. 

Then for a few moments her eye brightened at beholding 
so much magnificence. 

There were bracelets, ear-rings and necklace; a coronet 
with which to fasten the vail, from which hung graceful 
and delicate pendants; little tassels and ornaments to loop 
up the long, full skirt; a pair of dainty slippers, embroid- 
ered in strange devices with the same costly gems, and a 
girdle for the waist, from which depended two superb tas- 
sels, one before, and one behind, and which outrivaled any- 
thing that our heroine^s most brilliant imagination had 
ever pictured. 

Madam Alroyd, even through her tears, could not help 
exclaiming: 

^^Oh, how lovely!” as Nina clasped the last ornament in 
its place, and stepped back to note the effect. 

She then gently led the fair girl before a full length mir- 
ror, and entreated her to look. 

* Dora raised her said, lovely eyes, and gazed upon her re- 
flected image, and realized for an instant that she was in- 
deed surpassingly beautiful; but with a shudder she covered 
her face with her white-gloved hands. 

^^Oh, Bobbie! Bobbie!” she exclaimed, as the extent of 
her shattered hopes rushed over her. 

With unsteady steps she walked to a chair, upon which 
she sat, with clasped hands and a stony heart, waiting for 
the fatal summons. 

It came before she was aware of it. 

A curtain noiselessly swung aside, and Balph Moulton 
entered. 


162 


TmiCE WEDDED. 


He stopped spell-bound at sight of the vision before him, 
and the cloud that had hung on his brow ever since he had 
parted from little black-eyed Enid Chichester vanished in 
the presence of his elegant bride-elect. 

She did not move, for she had not heard nor seen him 
enter. 

He passed swiftly to her side, bent upon one knee, and 
taking her icy hand, pressed a passionate kiss upon it. 

Then she started as if an asp had stung her, and spurned 
him from her with loathing. Eising, she stood haughtily 
erect, and fixed her flashing eyes full upon him. 

He arose also, not in the least disturbed at his reception, 
and bowing low before her, said in tones of earnest admira- 
tion: 

^‘My bride, my queen, I am overwhelmed with so much 
loveliness, and my heart exults with pride over your exquis- 
ite beauty.^^ 

Still he heaved a little sigh as his mind wandered invol- 
untarily to the fair Enid. 

The hour had arrived, the clergyman was waiting, and 
Ealph offered Dora his arm, saying, imperativelv: 

^‘Corner 

“Go, and I will follow; but I will not touch you until I 
am obliged to,^^ she said, icily. 

Somewhat crest-fallen he obeyed, turned, and led the 
way from the room, followed by the three sorrowful 
women. 

They passed through several brilliantly lighted corridors, 
and at length paused before a wide entrance, draped with 
heavy curtains, before which stood two pages. 

There was a confused murmur of voices within, as if a 
large company were assembled, and waiting for the appear- 
ance of the bridal party. 

Dora gasped once or twice, but made no other sign to re- 
veal the struggles of her almost breaking heart. 

Without a word Ealph stepped to her side, and taking 
her hand, drew it within his arm; then making a sign to 
the pages, the curtains were suddenly swept aside, reveal- 
ing the magnificent and brilliantly lighted drawing-room, 
into which Eobert was conducted on the night of his cap- 
ture. 

A murmur of admiration greeted the ears of the party as 
they thus stood revealed to the company within. 


THBICE WEDDED. 


163 


At one end of the room there had been erected an altar, 
over which was a canopy of white velvet looped with gold 
cord and tassels, a most graceful and elegant affair. Tlie 
floor of the altar was likewise carpeted with white velvet, 
with a delicate vine of gold trailing over it. 

Thither Ealph proceeded, leading his fair and lovely 
bride. They reached it, ascended the steps, and placed 
themselves in position, waiting for the clergyman to speak 
the words which should make them one. 

He arose, an old, gray-headed man, with a sad, pale face, 
and who glanced with compassion at the white, rigid coun- 
tenance of Dora. 

He knew she was an unwilling bride, and his heart ached 
in sympathy for the anguish so plainly stamped upon her 
features, and he rebelled against performing such a mockery 
in the sight of Heaven. 

But he was powerless, for he himself was a prisoner within 
those vaults, and had received his orders to pronounce them 
man and wife in defiance of all opposition, or his own life 
would pay the forfeit. 

The assembled guests consisted of about flfty persons in 
all, and comprised twenty-five of the band of smugglers, 
most of the captives, and the servants. 

All were clad befitting the occasion, and conspicuous 
among the company were the seven lovely girls before 
alluded to, all of whom were robed in spotless white. 

hTear the altar, and with a smile of fiendish exultation 
upon his evil face, stood Squire Moulton. 

He was muttering to himself, in a satisfied sort of tone (a 
habit he had recently acquired), at the smooth way his 
plans were working. 

‘‘One scene more in this drama, and my revenge will be 
complete, and then I will rest awhile!” he said. 

Ah! thou soulless reprobate! Several scenes more will 
pass before your gaze ere you shall take your rest! 

There was a sudden hush as Father Francis (as he was- 
called) passed slowly from his seat to the foot of the altar.. 

Faint and trembling the tones fell from his lips as he be- 
gan the ceremony, and Ralph Moulton felt himself shudder,, 
and his flesh creep, as they floated up through space, and 
died away in the lofty,, brilliantly gemmed vault above 
them. 

The demand came forth, solemnly and fearfully. 


164 


THRICE WEDDED. 


thou take her whom you hold by the hand W be 
your true and lawfully wedded wife, to love, honor, and 
cherish while life doth last?^’ 
wilir 

Then, with a tear moistening his sunken eye, the holy 
man turned to the cold, white statue leaning on Ealph’s 
arm. 

^^Will you take him who stands by your side to be your 
true and lawful husband, to love, honor, and obey until 
death doth part you?^^ 

The hush of death was on the air, an awful stillness 
reigned, while the clergyman waited for the expected re- 
eponse. 

It came not; the white lips moved not— the pale eyelids 
did not even quiver, and the bosom scarcely fluttered! 

Ealph Moulton might have been wedded to a marble 
statue, for all the reply that could be gained from that calm, 
cold creature at his side. 

He scowled angrily; he grasped the hand he held with 
such cruel force that at any other time she would have 
fainted with the pain. 

All to no purpose, however, for not a muscle moved, not 
a sound or motion escaped her, that could be construed 
into a token of either assent or refusal. 

Again the voice of the priest rang out; this time full and 
clear, almost with a note of warning in its tones 

‘^Does any one here present know any reason why the 
banns of matrimony should not be sealed between these two?. 
If so, in the name of Heaven I command you, speak.^^ 

It was an aw^ful moment! 

The clergyman raised his clear eyes with an air of almost 
inspired authority, and scanned every face before him. But 
not a glance answered his, every orb drooped before his 
earnest, thrilling gaze, and every face wore a look of con- 
scious guilt. 

Each and every one realized the sacrilegiousness of the 
act, and those who would have answered that solemn ap- 
peal dared not; and in that breathless, voiceless silence the 
fatal, mocking words were spoken, the holy man himself 
shuddering as he uttered them. 

pronounce you husband and wife; and what God has 
joined together let not man put asunder!^^ 

A startling, piercing, horrible shriek instantly followed, 


THRIGE WEDDED. 


165 


and that white-robed form dropped senseless at Ealph 
Moulton^s feet. 

^^Hold!^^ thundered a deep, full voice. forbid the 
banns 

“Too late! too lateP^ chattered the squire, starting for- 
ward, and wringing his hands with malicious triumph. 


CHAPTEE XXIX. 

I2Sr THE SMUGGLEKS" CAVE. 

Every eye was turned like a flash- upon the intruder, and 
the chief, with a fearful oath, sprang toward him, with a 
gleam of startled fear in his eye notwithstanding his daunt- 
less bearing. 

He would have seized in his rough grasp him who had 
thus defied him in his den; but stepping back a pace or two, 
Fredrich Weimher turned his flashing eyes full upon the 
towering form before him, and said, in clear, ringing 
tones: 

“Not another step, sir! I warn youT^ 

His heavy revolver was raised, and covered the defeated 
villain^s heart, and grinding his teeth in bitter rage, he re- 
treated a step, for he saw that courage and determination 
lurked in the young man^s eyes. 

He could not help admiring him too, for, though armed 
to the teeth, few would have dared to come into the presence 
of so large a number of his band, even though they were en- 
tirely defenseless. 

He could not account for the strange circumstance. How 
could he have gained an entrance to his fortress? There 

must be treachery somewhere, unless A sudden thought 

struck him; he looked again, and then his eyes gleamed 
with such a fire of rage and hate that a stronger man than 
he might have quailed beneath it. 

“Ha!^^ he roared; “I know you now! — curses on you! 
You shall not escape me a second time! Fool that I was, not 
to finish you when I had the chance !^^ 

“Sir?^’ demanded Fredrich, in his turn surprised. 

“Sir! You neednT sir me, you young Paul Pry; I told 
you your meddlesome disposition would yet lead you into 
trouble.^^ 

“Ah! yes, now I understand you, although for the mo- 


166 


THRICE WEDDED. 


ment I did not recognize you/^ replied Fredrich^ smiling 
calmly. 

^‘And you have broken your oath never to reveal to mor- 
tal man what you knew of this place/^ returned the chief, 
more and more amazed at his calm, self-possessed manner, 
while those around were speechless with surprise, that any 
one should thus dare to ^‘beard the lion in his lair.*^^ 

^‘How do you know I have broken my oath?'^ 

^‘How do I know? Is not your presence here alone suffi- 
cient proof? Who is your companion in this hazardous ex- 
pedition?'" 

'^If you remember rightly, my oath was worded thus — 
that I would never tell any one where the entrance to 
cave was to be found. I have literally kept my word. I 
have not told, but I have come myself to release my friends 
whom you hold as captives. I have come to stop that 
fiendish business,"" he said, pausing, and pointing to Dora's 
lifeless form. ^^That villain says I am too late; but a short 
time will serve to prove that I am not." 

^'Curse you! do you think I am going to stand this in- 
solence, and from a mere boy? Seize him, and bind him 
instantly!" he cried, turning to his band, and fairly foam- 
ing at the mouth with rage. 

Several men sprang forward to do his bidding, while he 
shouted to the rest: 

^"To arms, all of you! There is a traitor in the camp. I'll 
swear." 

^^Hold!" 

The word was echoed from a dozen different points of 
that enormous room, and instantly the drapery was swept 
aside from as many places, and from each entrance emerged 
five or six stalwart men, with pistols cocked, and otherwise 
armed to the teeth. 

Every smuggler stood mute and terror-stricken; they saw 
at once the fearful odds against them, and knew that resis- 
tance would be useless. In sullen silence they awaited the 
result of this fearful and unexpected interruption of their 
wedding gayeties. 

^'Edgerton, place your men in position, and shoot the 
first man that moves or resists," commanded Fredrich 
Weimher, in a clear, ringing tone. 

Ronald Edgerton and about twenty-five men filed along 


TEBICE WEDDED. 


167 


at one end of the room, and at a word of command from 
him each raised his weapon, and held it ready for action. 

The smugglers gazed in terror around, but every entrance 
had an armed sentinel, and not a chance of escape was pos- 
sible. 

^"Forward and bind these villains, every one of them!^’ 
shouted Fredrich, and boldly springing forward to lead the 
attach. 

The scene which followed was exciting beyond descrip- 
tion. 

Those great lawless men, who for years had fearlessly 
roamed the world at large, committing their crimes, and the 
most daring acts conceivable — who were a terror and a dread 
to all who knew of their existence — were now rendered pow- 
erless in a single instant. 

The fame of an artist, who could have faithfully trans- 
ferred to his canvas that brilliant, gorgeous room, with its 
strange and excited occupants, would forever have been es- 
tablished, and his praises sung throughout the world. 

See them! 

That company of conquerors, with their flushed, eager 
faces, weapons raised and aimed at the hearts of the baffled 
villains, Fredrich Weimher^s men, with coils of stout cord 
in their hands, and in the act of springing forward to» bind 
their helpless foes. 

The smugglers, with their sullen, terror-pale faces, their 
confused and faltering manner, gazing half beseechingly, 
half menacingly at their hitherto infallible chief, who, with 
white and foaming lips, frantic eyes, despairing mien, stood 
stunned and dismayed l)efore them. While on one side were 
the beautiful maidens, huddled together, shivering and gaz- 
ing with a sort of horrible fascination upon the scene before 
them, though in their faces one might read of hopeful 
hearts beating beneath their colorless features. 

Opposite this group, and seated upon the floor of the al- 
tar, was Madame Alroyd, holding the senseless bride clasped 
in her trembling arms, while Kalph, the clergyman, and 
Nina were bending anxiously over them, and applying 
restoratives. 

Last, but not least, was the astonished squire, who stood 
with his gray locks streaming back, his eyes protruding 
from their sockets, his face shrunken and livid with fear 


168 


THMCE WEDDED. 


and rage, while his hands worked backward and forward, 
and his whole attitude betraying uncertainty and doubt. 

They seized and bound the much-dreaded chief first, who, 
though he cursed and raved fearfully, dared not offer resist- 
ance. The rest, now that their leader was secured, were a 
comparatively easy conquest, though the words which fell 
from their lips were horrible to hear, and the expression of 
their faces fearful to behold. 

There were only about twenty-five of them present, and 
these were all quickly and firmly bound, and then placed 
under a guard upon one side of the room. 

When the last one was disposed of those lovely captives 
could restrain themselves no longer. They clasped each 
other in their arms, weeping and laughing by turns for 

They felt that their time for release was near at hand, 
that loving arms would soon encirle them, and hearts that 
long since mourned them as dead would beat once again 
with joy and thankfulness at their resurrection, as it 
were. 

Vivien Lamerack, or Moulton, alone had retained her 
self-possession through the whole scene, and now stood re- 
garding the handsome leader of this glorious enterprise, 
her lovely, earnest eyes filled with profoundest admiration. 

Poo'i' Enid Chichester knew nothing whatever of what 
was transpiring around her, for the moment the curtains 
had parted, revealing Ealph leading in his lovely bride, she 
had uttered a faint cry, and then sunk softly down into the 
depths of a massive chair and quietly swooned away; and 
there she had remained, wholly unconscious, no one notic- 
ing or realizing what had happened to her, so intent were 
all upon the exciting scene before her. 

Ealph's whole attention, after the first moment of startled 
surprise, had been devoted to his senseless bride, who con- 
tinued to lay pale and still, as if death had already claimed 
her for his own. When he would have raised her in his 
arms Madame Alroyd waved him sternly off, and taking her 
to her own heart, bent with streaming eyes over her, calling 
pitifully upon her to awake, while Ealph at last, conscience- 
stricken, remained standing silently and sadly by. 

Suddenly he raised his eyes, and saw his uncle stealing 
noiselessly toward one of the outlets of the room. 

There was a most sinister expression upon his evil face. 


THRICE WEBBED. 


169 


which, upon interpreting, Kalph^s heart grew still with a 
deathly horror for a moment, then instantly bounding with 
new life and a sudden determination, he left the sad group 
at the altar and quickly followed his retreating figure. 

The squire, on lifting the drapery at the door, discovered 
a guard; but a lightning blow dropped him senseless, and he 
sped with flying steps in the direction of Mr. Ellerton^s cell, 
feeling the sharp edge of a dagger as he went, and mutter- 
ing to himself: 

‘'News’s my time — now^s my timeP 


CHAPTEK XXX. 

FEEE TO CHOOSE. 

Suddenly Vivien started forward, and gliding quickly up 
to Fredrich Weimher^s side, said sweetly, while her face 
flushed crimson beneath his gaze of admiration: 

^^Will you allow me to leave this place for a few minutes? 
Xay,^^ she added, quickly, as she saw him hesitate and 
glance suspiciously at her, ^fit is only good that I would do. 
I would liberate one who has mourned in vain for freedom, 
and if I mistake not, one whom you came to release to- 
day. 

‘^His name?^^ eagerly cried the young man. 

^‘Eobert Ellerton!^^ she answered. 

^‘Yes, lady, yes, you shall be allowed to go wherever you 
choose; and if you will allow me I will accompany you, for 
he is the dearest friend I have.'^' 

She smiled an assent, and offering her his arm, they pro- 
ceeded from the room. 

She led him through several passages and rooms, he gaz- 
ing with wonder as he went at everything he saw, until at 
length they stopped before the glass door through which 
Eobert had gazed down upon the six lovely girls. 

She took a tiny key from her pocket and unlocked the 
door; leading him within, she asked him to be seated while 
she went to summon his friend. 

He took the seat indicated, but said, as she was turning 
away: 

""Stay, lady, one moment, and tell me, first, if I am, in- 
deed, too late to prevent that sacrilegious ceremony, as that 
villain said?*' 


170 


THRICE WEDDED. 


^'You are, indeed P she said, sadly. ^^The fatal words 
were but just spoken as you entered; the shriek you heard 
was one of despair, that she was too truly the wife of a man 
whom she detested and loathed. 

am grieved, he replied, '^for I would have saved Miss 
Dupont the suffering of being compelled to go through with 
such a trial. But it will never be recognized as a legal mar- 
riage; she is as free as ever, and can choose for herself whom 
she will marry; and I have not much doubt what that choice 
will be,^^ he added, with a smile. 

Vivien^s fair face glowed with joy, as she replied: 

am rejoiced more than I can express to hear you say 
this, for my heart has been filled with sorrow at the young 
lady^s fate, and I dared not tell Mr. Ellerton lest it should 
drive him to some act of desperation.^^ 

^^How is it that you are allowed to associate with one who 
is held so close a prisoner as my friend 

am not allowed. He by accident discovered a secret 
passage leading from his room into this. Since then we 
have passed many pleasant hours in each other^s society. 

^‘He has told me his history, and the reason why he was 
enticed here. Though he never imagined that his lovely 
bride was to be brought here to be sacrificed.'^ 

The lovely eyes filled with tears of sympathy, while her 
cheeks were crimson, with the excitement which she had 
undergone that day. 

He gazed upon her with profound admiration, and every 
time the sweet tones fell upon his ear his heart quickened its 
pulsations, and he felt the blood leap madly in his veins. 

At last he said, respectfully: 

^‘Will you tell me your name, lady? I am grateful for the 
consolation which I know your society must have been to 
iny deeply tried friend. 

Her lips quivered painfully, and the hot blood swept over 
cheek, neck, and brow, as she replied: 

^^My true name is Vivien Moulton, but 

he exclaimed, springing quickly to his feet. ^^And 
that vil— I beg your pardon. Miss Moulton.^^ 

He stopped in confusion, for his mind instantly reverted 
to the story which Eonald Edgerton had related to him that 
morning, and he saw at once that he was reviling one who 
was intimately connected with the fair girl before him. 

that wicked man is my father, and though my 


THRICE WEDDED. Vtl 

heart almost breaks with the knowledge, yet it is none the 
less true/^ she returned, sadly. 

^'And did you know that he was present to witness the 
ceremony this evening?^' 

^'What! here?^^ she almost shrieked, starting toward him 
with clasped hands and pale face. 

^^Yes, my friend, here. Did you not notice that bent, 
gray-haired man, who came forward as I entered the place?' 
That was Ealph Moulton. 

She shuddered, and covered her white face with her ! 
hands. She had noticed that ugly, sinister face, and in her 
heart she had hated him, though she could not have told 
why had she been asked. 

Fredrich Weimher arose, and taking her by the hand, led 
her gently to a seat. 

^^Pardon me,^^ he said, ^Tor arousing such unpleasant 
feelings; he may indeed be unfortunately allied to you by 
blood, but surely the sacred name of TatheP can never be 
breathed by your pure lips to one such as he. You cannot 
recognize him by any such tie when he has willfully for- 
feited all such claim. 

^ ‘Never, she replied. “Though it is deeply humiliat- 
ing to me to know that I am indeed the child of one who is 
so base.''^ 

The tears burst passionately from her beautiful eyes as 
she finished. 

“Do not weep; he is not worthy that you should shed a 
tear for him. ' Believe me, you have my deepest sympathy. 

I know your history, and before I saw you my heart bled for 
your sufferings and your wrongs.^' 

His voice had softened to its tenderest accents, and its 
tones were very sweet and pleasant to the young and almost 
friendless girPs ears. 

She raised her head, and gazed with gratitude for a mo- 
ment into his expressive eyes; and she saw within them 
that which made her own droop instantly, while the rich 
crimson tide again rushed upward, suffusing her whole face. 
He could not resist giving the delicate hand he held just the 
least little bit of a pressure, then hastened to relieve her 
confusion by asking: 

“Did you not know the young man who officiated as 
bridegroom in the heartless mockery you have just wit- 
nessed? Your words lead me to infer as much/^ 


172 


mniGB WEDDED. 


^^No/^sbe answered. were so excited over Miss Du- 

pont^s sufferings, that we never thought to ask who her per- 
secutor was. Our thoughts and sympathies were only for 
her. Do you know him?^^ 

^^Yes, I know him well. I met him in New York, where 
we both first met Miss Dupont.-’^ 

^^And his name?^^ she asked. 

^^Shall I tell you — can you bear to know it?^^ 

‘AYhy not? "Oh, yes — quick — your face tells me that it 
is one in whom I am interested/^ she said, breathlessly. 

^‘Nay, do not be alarmed; he can never do you harm. 
His name is also Ralph Moulton, his 

^^His son — oh, no — do not tell me that I have a brother, 
too, who is steeped in crime/^ she moaned, in a voice of 
anguish. 

^‘Forgive me, my«.-friend, for thus causing you to suffer. 
He is no brother of yours, but a nephew of the elder 
Moulton.^^ 

‘‘Thank Heaven that he is no nearer to me than a cousin!^^ 
she said, with a sigh of relief, then added: “And I thank 
Heaven too, sir, that you have come here to-day; for of 
course all these unfortunate captives will be restored to their 
homes and friends. But — please — will you not tell me who 
their deliverer is?'^ 

“I do not claim to be their deliverer; I am only working 
in unison with others. But my name is Fredrich Weim- 
her.’^ 

“Oh, yes! I know you now. Mr. Ellerton has told me 
all about you,^^ she returned, with a brilliant smile. “But 
come, we have nearly forgotten him; let us hasten to impart 
to him the glad tidings that he is once more free!^^ 

“In one moment. But tell me that when we leave this 
place to-night you will accompany us,^^ he asked, with an 
expression of his eyes that revealed much more of meaning 
than his words conveyed. 

“I would gladly do so, but my uncles, who will probably 
remain here for the present, must decide my destiny. They 
are all the friends I have,^' she replied. 

“I know they are all the relatives you have, but I cannot 
leave this place until you are free. If I can gain their con- 
sent, will you make one of Miss DuponFs party, until other 
arrangements can be made for you? This is no fitting place 
for a lady/^ 


*rHHICE WEDDED. 173 

^‘Willingly, with Miss Dupont^s leave/^ sne smiled. 

^^Thanks/^ he returned, fervently. 

^‘And now I am ready to go to my friend.'^ 

She turned, and sweeping aside the drapery, pressed 
upon a spring, and the heavy stone before mentioned swung 
back. 

She then blew a tiny silver whistle which hung at her gir- 
dle, and stood waiting. 

Almost instantly Eobert Ellerton parted the hangings in 
his room and appeared. 

^‘Mr. Ellerton, come quick^^ she exclaimed, her beauti- 
ful face all aglow with glad triumph. 

There was a joyous ring in her voice that made him 
quicken his steps, and he had hardly entered her boudoir 
when his hand was warmly grasped, and the word ^^Eob- 
ert!^^ was uttered in familiar and welcome tones. 

^^Eredrich! Heaven bless you, my boy, how came you 
here?^^ 

Gently as they could they told him the whole story, and 
notwithstanding that he was somewhat prepared to learn 
that harm had happened to his darling, still his suffering 
was pitiful when he learned the extent to which the villains 
had carried their vile plottings. 

Dora herself was not paler than he at this moment, and 
they had hardly finished their account, when he sprang 
wildly to his feet and begged them to take him to her. 

Vivien went up to him and said, gently: 

^^My dear- friend, I beg that you will be calm. Miss Du- 
pont had fainted when we came for you, and it would un- 
nerve her again to see you thus moved, if she should be re- 
covered.^^ 

^‘Thanks, my sweet sister, for your kindly warning; I will 
be calm, but I beg you will not keep me longer here.*^' 

He dashed through the entrance of the room as he spoke, 
in direct contradiction of his previous assertion that he 
would be calm; but he soon stopped and waited for Vivien 
to come up with him, for he did not know one step of the 
way through those intricate passages. 

At last they entered the spacious room. 

Wholly unmindful of the conquered chief, who gazed at 
him with black and threatening looks, passing over with 
one swift glance of his eye every inmate of the place, until 
his gaze fell upon the group at the altar, when with one 


174 ftintCE WEbLEb. 

bound and a wild cry of joy, Robert sprang to Dorans side, 
and seizing her in his arms, pressed kiss after kiss upon her 
cold lips, while he murmured tenderest words of endear- 
ment in her dull ears. 

As if in answer to his beseeching eyes, and the earnest, 
touching appeals which fell from his lips, she revived there 
in his arms. 

A faint tinge of color crept into the death-white lips, the 
her*vy eyelids fluttered, unclosed, and closed again, then 
flew wide open, revealing the blue orbs beneath, which fixed 
their astonished gaze full upon the loving, tender face bend- 
ing above her. 

A smile of rapture overspread her features, and nestling 
closer in his arms, she murmured: 

^^Oh, Robbie, am I dead — and is this heaven? When did 
you die? I thought you did not love me, but you do!^^ 

^^No, darling, you are not dead, but, thank Heaven, liv- 
ing, breathing still, and my own little wife once again. 

^‘Where am I?^^ she asked, glancing above at the brilliant, 
sparkling vault, with a perplexed look. 

‘‘Safe, safe, my precious, and nothing shall ever part us 
again. 

She closed her eyes again wearily, and heaving a deep, 
satisfied sigh, as a tired child in its mother^s arms might 
have done, laid her soft cheek against his throbbing heart. 

He watched her anxiously for a few moments, until sud- 
denly he saw the trimson tide of life surge swiftly up, cov- 
ering her fair face with its deepest hue. 

Then an expression of keenest anguish settled around her 
quivering lips, and plowed deep furrow^s in the smooth 
white brow, and with a quick motion she slid from his 
clasping arms, covering her face with her hands. 

“What is it, darling? Come back to me again,'" he said, 
earnestly, while a pained look settled over his features. 

But when he would have taken her to him, she motioned 
him away. 

“Ho, no I cannot, I dare not — they have married me 
to — to — oh, heaven! it shall not be, I will not have it so!’^ 
she shudderingly answered, while she crouched in anguish 
at his feet. 

He knelt beside her, and again drew her to him, saying: 

“Darling, you are not that rascahs wife, except bj^our 
sweet will. A forced marriage is no marriage. Look up. 


THBICE WEDDED. 175 

Brightie, you are mine yet, and I shall never let you go, 
until you bid me give you up/^ 

She looked up, a faint smile for a moment wreathing her 
pale lips; but it quickly faded, and again releasing herself 
from his clasp, she said, sorrowfully: 

^‘ISTo, I am not yours — you do not want me, else why 
did you send me that horrible paper to sign? And that 
cruel letter 

^^What paper? What letter? I know not what you 
mean!^^ 

^"Oh, don’t you!^’ she cried, wildly starting to her feet, 
then said, gravely, looking him full in the eye, ^^Eobert 
Ellerton, do you indeed speak truly? Oh, I will bless you 
all the days of my life if you will tell me you did not write 
them/^ 

She stretched out her clasped hands to him with such an 
eager, wistful look, that his heart ached within him, for 
he knew that, like himself, she must have suffered untold 
agony, and that in some way she had been led to believe him 
untrue to her. 

He took the little clasped hands tenderly in his own, and 
said, gazing earnestly in her eyes: 

^‘Dora, my own, I do not understand what you mean; 
tell me what it is that has caused your love to turn from 
me?’^ 

^‘Oh, not my love! That has always been yours; it is 
yours now andiorever,^^ she sobbed, bowing her head, and 
resting it upon her clasped hands. 

^^Well, then, explain what has caused this mistrust in 
me.’^ 

He drew her head to his bosom, and there she told him 
all. And he realized how near he had come to losing her, 
how cunningly the plot had been laid, and in his heart he 
blessed his friend, Fredrich Weimher, that he had come in 
time to save her. When she finished, he said: 

^‘My darling, I never penned one word of what you have 
repeated to me; both the letter and the paper which you 
signed were gross forgeries. You remember the dainty lit- 
tle bouquet which you threw to me; for a moment after I 
read the note which you concealed in it, I was so over- 
whelmed with joy — with the knowledge that you of all 
others were there to congratulate me upon my honors, that 
I was fairly dizzy; my head began to swim, and a mist was 


176 


THRICE WEDDED. 


before my eyes. When I had collected myself sufficiently 
to glance at you, intending to look the love and joy I could 
not speak, you were leaving the hall. I started up, and was 
hastening after you, when a boy handed me a note, purport- 
ing to be from my father. It proved, like what you re- 
ceived, to be a forgery — a decoy to lure me here, where 1 
have been detained as a prisoner ever since. You can im- 
agine something of my agony and indignation, especially 
when I heard of the foul wrong that was being meditated 
against you. I have mourned and prayed, but all was of 
no avail. Now that I have you safe once again, I cannot 
be thankful enough. He smiled, fondly drawing her 
closer to him, then added, slyly: ^^And if you really feel 
that you have signed away your right in me, why, we can 
make it all right again, in a very short aime.'’^ 

She hid her now radiant and blushing face upon his 
shoulder, and whispered: 

'‘'But am I really and truly free from that horrid man — 
free to choose for myself 

^'Yes, Brightie, you are free to give your own precious 
self to whom you will. Must I ask again for my wife?^^ 

He raised her head and gazed earnestly in her happy 
eyes. They told him all he wished to know, but her answer 
filled his cup of joy full to overflowing. 

^'No, Robbie; 1 am blessed indeed if you will take me the 
second time.^’ 

Joyous tears glittered upon the heavy fringes of her eyes, 
and as he stooped and kissed her now scarlet lips she re- 
turned the caress with a pressure that thrilled to his hearths 
core. 

'^'Oome,'^^ she then said, starting up; ^det me take you to 
auntie. There she sits, looking as if she could not wait for 
us much longer.''^ 

They went down from the altar with beaming, radiant 
faces, and hand in hand approached the happy old lady, 
who had drawn Nina away the moment her darling had re- 
vived, feeling in the delicate kindness of her heart that their 
meeting was too sacred to be gazed curiously upon. 

When she saw by their happy looks that all was right, she 
wept and laughed by turns at her niece^s recovered joy, until 
they approached to ask her blessing. 

She greeted the young man with a warmth which con- 


THRICE WEDDED, 177 

vinced him at once that he had nothing to fear for his future 
from her. 

He had conversed with her only a few moments when 
these words fell upon his startled ear: 

^'Eobert, my soiiT 

He turned and was clasped in a warm, fervent embrace, 
while the one word, ^^FatherT* burst from his glad lips. 


CHAPTEE XXXI. 

BAFFLED. 

We must go back to the moment when Ealph saw his 
uncle leave the room, fell the guard, and speed away through 
the mazy passages. 

He followed as well as he was able, for he was wholly un- 
acquainted with the situation of the dilferent cells and the 
way which led to them. Every few moments Ealph paused 
to listen, to catch the sound of the squire's footsteps, and 
then hurried on. 

At last there was a moment of utter silence, then he heard 
the sharp clang of a heavy bolt as it was drawn from its 
socket, then the noise of an opening door, after which an 
almost Satanic laugh echoed through those low vaults as 
Squire Moulton at last reached his victim. 

Ealph crept cautiously nearer. He did not wish to be 
seen by his uncle, and resolved not to interfere in any way, 
unless he should attempt violence. 

^^Ha!" he heard the squire say, tauntingly, thought 
Fd bring you news of the wedding. Your — Ealph 
could not catch the next word, though he strainea his ears 
to do so — ^^has wedded the wealthy little lady, as I told you 
he would, and deeming it likely that you would be anxious 
to learn when it was all nicely over, I came to tell you." 

"^Cease, babbler, and leave; I would be alone," replied 
Mr. Ellerton, comrnandingly. 

^‘Oh, ho! Command the rocks to open and set you free; 
perhaps they will hear and obey," was the sneering retort. 
“But I cannot obey you just yet; you know, I promised to 
return to you again, and I always keep promises of this 
kind, especially when I have a purpose to accomplish." 

Mr. Ellerton bowed his head wearily upon his hands 
and made no reply. The' evil-hearted squire went on^ 
sneeringly: . 


178 


THRICE WEDDED. 


^^Nice little match that of Kalph Ellerton^s. I presume 
you will be interested to know that he will now have the 
command of three fortunes; you have always taken such an 
interest in the lad^s welfare that it must be pleasing to you to 
know of his present good luck. Miss Dupont^s, or rather Mrs. 
Ellerton^s fortune, united with my own, and then yours on 
the top of that, will make quite a little pile, amounting in 
all to about two millions of dollars. You perceive I keep 
posted about these things. 

^‘Villain! will you hold your peace demanded Mr. El- 
lerton, exasperated nearly beyond control. 

He raised his head again, and sharply scrutinized the face 
of his enemy, and grew a shade paler at the diabolical pur- 
pose he saw written there. He saw at once that the man 
meant to take his life. 

Step hy step ths squire approached nearer to his victim, 
until only a short space remained between them. 

In a stern, authoritative tone, Mr. Ellerton cried out: 

‘^Back, villain! Do not dare to take another step, or you 
shall pay dearly for iti^^ 

The wretch leered fearfully at him, and, with a shrill, 
mocking laugh, glided still nearer. 

^^Do you think I fear you he asked, ^^or that I have 
come here unprepared to defend myself! Look!^’ 

The squire drew a long, slender dagger from his bosom as 
he spoke, and held it up before the face of his victim. 

^‘This beautiful little instrument, he said, lightly feel- 
ing its edge with one long, bony finger, ^fis poisoned, and 
one scratch would send you to your long lost and lovely bride 
— she who ought to have been mine, and whom you stole 
from me, curses on youP^ 

His deepest passions began to be stirred, as they always 
were when his mind reverted to the fancied wrongs of long 
ago. 

^^But,^^ he continued, ^^my revenge will soon be complete, 
for I am going to stab you to the heart with this, and 
then watch you while you die. Oh, it will be a feast to my 
eyes, a joy to my soul! Ho, no — better not try that,'^ he 
said, as Ellerton made a motion as if to seize the weapon 
from his hand. ^'Kemember, the merest trick will prove 
fatal and cause you tenfold more suffering. Better take it 
quietly to your heart at once and have it over withj you wdl] 
meet Jessie then all the sooner/^ 


Thrice wedbeJ). t 79 

^^Oh, heavens, what a monster moaned the wretched 
man. 

His heart sickened within him as he realized his horrible 
situation. 

The fiend bent near to him; he* could feel his hot breath 
against his cheek, see the pupil of his eye dilate and then 
contract with the deadly purpose of his heart shining through 
them. 

Tiie squire raised his arm high above his head, while his 
long, bony fingers firmly clutched the handle of the dagger. 
For a moment it quivered in the air, then it descended 
toward his foe with full force. 

But it missed its destination, for his arm was fiercely 
arrested in its downsvard motion, and with a howl of baffled 
rage the squire turned to see who had cheated him of his 
long wished for revenge. He met the stern face and hash- 
ing eyes of his nephew. He was pale as the dead, and he 
shook with the excitement of the dreadful moment; but his 
hold upon his uncle was like the grip of a vise, and the mur- 
derous wretch could no more move his arm under it than if 
he had been an infant. 

Kalph pulled him roughly from his intended victim, 
and said, hoarsely: 

told you that you should not do this thing." 

^‘Curse you, I will!" he shrieked, frantically striving to 
free himself. ^‘He shall not live — I will have his black 
heart to pay me for what I have suffered! Let me go, you 
young dog. Oh, it was treacherous in you to cheat me so, 
when my triumph was so near. Help! help! — I will be 
free!^’ 

The baffled wretch writhed and twisted in the iron grasp 
that held him. His eyes grew blood -shot, his face became of 
a purple hue, while fiecks of foam fiew from his mouth. 

Gaining renewed courage from his almost miraculous 
deliverance, Mr. Ellerton struck his foe a powerful blow, 
which felled him to the fioor, and sent the fatal dagger dy- 
ing to the farthest corner of the room. 

■‘Now," said Ralph, ‘ if you have a cord anywhere, we will 
bind this dangerous gentleman until he recovers his senses; 
it will not do to let him run at large." 

Mr. Ellerton picked up the weapon that had so nearly put 
an end to his existence, and, quickly stepping to the stout 
bell-rope, severed it with a single blow; then together they 


THBlOB WEDDED. 


180 

firmly bound the sqiiire^s arms behind him, wholly unmind- 
ful of his curses and shrieks. 

When this was accomplished Mr. Ellerton turned to 
Ealph, and said gratefully: 

Young man, I know not who you are, whether friend or 
foe; but you have saved my life, and for this I am inex- 
pressibly thankful/’ 

ask no thanks; I have simply done my duty,^^ replied 
Ealph, quietly and coldly, though he gazed searchingly in 
the othe/s face. Then, after a moment, he added, while 
the hot blood rushed over his features, ^^Perhaps it is right 
that you should know who I am. My name is Ealph Moul- 
ton Ellerton. 

^^You!^^ he gasped, staggering back as if some one had 
struck him. 

^‘Yes, sir; and, of course, with your blood .flowing in my 
veins, I could not see him do this thing, returned the 
young man. 

*"Ah, my friend, I know what you think, and I assure 
you you have been grossly deceived about your history, and 
are not so much to be blamed for the part you have taken 
against me and mine.^’ 

^^What! do you mean still to deny our relationship?^^ 
asked Ealph, an indignant sparkle replacing the former cold 
glitter of his eye. 

^T have never denied the true relationship existing be- 
tween us. But I have never wronged you, neither have I 
ever done you any good. How could I, when you were in 
the hands of my bitterest foe? Had he not taken you, be- 
lieve me, I would never have allowed you to suffer,” said his 
companion, earnestly. 

Ealph gazed at him half wonderingly; he could not doubt 
the truthful look which he saw upon his face, yet he asked 
severely: 

^^Ho you mean to say that you have never done me wrong 
in denying your own flesh and blood, and have you never 
done me wrong in the injury you have done my mother? 
What am I if I am not your son?^’ 

^You are not my son. I swear it! I told you that you 
had been cruelly deceived. You are the son of my brother, 
who married your mother in secret, or rather, without con- 
sulting his friends, and shame be upon him, deserted her 
soon after your birth/^ 


TUBIC^ WEDDm. 


181 


this true?^^ demanded Ealph, pale and faint. 

'‘Every word of it, as sure as there is a heaven above us.^^ 

“Is this true?’^ he asked again, turning fiercely to his 
uncle. 

He would not answer, but remained sitting doggedly 
silent. But that silence was answer enough; it convinced 
Kalph, who cried brokenly : 

“If you have deceived me with this awful lie, I will have 
no mercy upon you. Oh! if it is true — what have I done? 
May Heaven and you forgive me, sir, for I have bent all my 
energies toward your own and your son^s ruin, believing that 
you had done me this great wrong, and desiring to be re- 
venged upon you for it.-’^ 

He covered his face with his hands and groaned aloud. 
Mr. Ellerton went to him and laid a hand gently on his 
shoulder, saying: 

“My boy, I believe you, and I freely forgive you for all 
you may have been infiuenced to do in this affair. I know 
what a black-hearted wretch yonder man is, and feel that he 
alone will have to answer for all these crimes. But I will ex- 
plain all to your satisfaction some other time. Did you come 
to give me liberty? I see the door is open — am I to go free? 
l am anxious to see my son, whom I know has been a pris- 
oner here like myself."” 

“Yes, sir; all within these vaults are now free, except the 
smugglers, whose den it has been for so many years. But 
please answer me one more question before I lead you to 
your son. Are my father and mother living ?^^ 

^‘I know not,^^ replied Mr. Ellerton, sadly. “My brother 
suddenly disappeared and went to California. I have never 
seen him since, and your mother I can tell you nothing of. 
She went away soon after he left her, and I have never heard 
from her since. I supposed she was dead, as the squire had 
taken you. Ask him where she is; he ought to know, for 
she was his sister,^^ he said, pointing to the squire. 

“You told me she was not your sister, but your cousin, 
you reprobate/^ thundered Ralph, turning to the squire, 
who was now writhing beneath the words which proved his 
lies. But he lifted his head defiantly, and sneered: 

“Yes, Fve told you a good many things.'^^ 

“That were false ?"" questioned his nephew, with angry 

eagerness. 


18 ^ THRICE WEDDED. 

^^Some were true, and some were false/^ was the dogged 
reply. 

is enough/^ replied Ealph, with an ominous calmness. 
Then, turning again to Mr. Ellerton, he said, ^^We will 
talk of this again; but come now, and I will take you to 
your son. You, sir, must go also; there will perhaps be 
some explanations to be made which will require your pres- 
ence/^ he said to his uncle. 

They each took, an arm, and led the baffled wretch back 
through the passages whence he came so jubilantly but a 
short while before. 

They entered the principal room, placed him under 
guard, and then Ealph, with an humble air, led Mr. Eller- 
ton toward the group where he saw Eobert conversing with 
Madame Alroyd. He then immediately retired to a distant 
part of the room, and sat down to nurse his sorrow and re- 
morse alone. 


CHAPTEE XXXIL 

DEFEATED. 

With those few touching words, which fell from the lips 
of the long-parted father and son, they were clasped in each 
other’s arms, all the bitter feeling of the six years previous 
swept from their hearts, leaving nothing but love, joy, and 
thankfulness in their place. 

Dora looked upon this meeting, sobbing for joy, and, like 
them, forgetting past injuries in the bliss of the delightful 
present. 

At length Eobert wiped the tears, which would come, and 
taking Dora’s hand placed it within that of his father, say- 
ing, with a proud, fond look: 

^"Father, this is Dora; you surely remember her.’’ 

^^Ah! yes, indeed,” he replied, pressing the little hand 
warmly. 

She greeted him with a charming smile, returned the 
hearty shake of his hand, and was her own sweet, natural 
self once more. There was no cold, scornful dignity in her 
manner, and in his heart Mr. Ellerton pronounced her a 
most lovely and lovable little lady. 


THBICE WEDDED. 


183 


he presently said, with a comical look, first at 
Kobert, then at her, ^^by what name shall I address this 
young lady?^^ 

^"Dora Dupont, for the present, please, she laughed, 
though her cheeks were rosy red. 

In the meantime, Konald Edgerton, in his disguise, had 
seen that every smuggler was securely bound and placed un- 
der a sufficient guard to insure against any possibility of 
their escaping. 

Then he sought the two Italians, and held a whispered 
conference with them for a few moments; then all ap- 
proached the group where Eobert and his father stood. 

^^Sir,^^ said Edgerton, with a pale face, and in a voice 
that quivered in spite of his efforts to steady it, ‘T see you 
are free, and my aid in that matter will not be necessary; 
but yonder sits a man,^' pointing to the squire, ^^with whom 
I have a long account to settle, and I would like you to be 
present and listen to what passes between us.^^ 

Mr. Ellerton started forward and grasped his hand warmly, 
saying: 

^^Ah! yes, my friend; I think I have seen you before. If 
I mistake not, you are the one who gave me. a word of cheer, 
while you relieved me of my property. Strange contradic- 
tion, though,^^ he added, laughing, ^Hotake all I was worth, 
leave me a beggar, and then tell me to be of good cheer. 
But please tell me your name, and then Til comply with 
your request. 

‘T am known here as Jake Toleman; but more of myself 
hereafter; we will attend to Squire Moulton first. 

^^Very well; lead the way, and we will follow.^' 

All proceeded toward the wretch, who glared savagely at 
them. 

Dora and her aunt, too, drew near, and soon the others 
about the room gathered around to hear what was go- 
ing on. 

In the back part of the room and watching wdth a pierc- 
ing eye every movement that was made, sat a tall, slender 
figure, enveloped in a heavy cloak, with its hood drawn close 
around her face. No one seemed to notice her presence, 
nor had she moved from her seat since she entered the place. 
She had quietly followed one file of men when they entered, 
arid seated herself near the entrance. 

Now she suddenly rose and drew near the group sur- 


184 


THRICE WEDDED. 


rounding the squire, and listened eagerly to every word that 
was spoken. 

Jake Toleman, as he called himself, stepped forward in 
front of Squire Moulton and said: 

^‘Do you know me, sir?^"" 

^"Curse you, no, only as a smuggler, who was paid to do 
my will; nor do I wish to know you,^^ he growled. 

‘‘1 can easily believe the latter part of your reply,^’ re- 
plied the man, grimly, then added, ^^but the first part I 
deny. LookP 

He pulled off his heavy wig and whiskers as he spoke. 

^‘Ha! Edgerton! Traitor exclaimed the wretch, start- 
ing angrily up. 

“No, sir, you are wrong; Edgerton is not my name, it is 
only the name of a character I have assumed. 

“Who are you, then — and how came youhere?^' he asked, 
curiosity getting the better of his fear for a moment. 

“Your first question I will answer presently. I am here 
because I followed you. I knew your errand, and I came 
to thwart you at every point. I have been on your track 
for the last six or seven years. "Why, do you ask? Because 
I had an object in view; you possessed something which I 
wanted, and which at last I have got.'’^ 

“What — what is it?^^ gasped the squire, wildly, and striv- 
ing to free himself from his fetters. 

“This!^^ said the other, sternly, taking a paper from his 
bosom, unfolding it, and holding it up before his eyes. 

“Blast you! what did you want of that? Ten thousand 
fiends take you — who are you, I say?’’’ 

“I am one whom you have deeply wronged. You have 
made my life desolate, as well as that of others, by misrep- 
resenting my character, my intentions, and everything con- 
nected with me. Would you know who I am? then look 
again 

He hastily pulled off his r>ugh coat, revealing a neat and 
rich suit of broadcloth; then off came his fierce, heavy eye- 
brows and mustache — he had previously removed the 
swarthy tint from his face — and he stood forth the gentle- 
man whom we saw in earnest conversation with Eredrich 
Wei m her at the inn! 

“Alfred EllertonP 

“My brother! thank Heaven!'^ 

These exclamations burst simultaneously from the trem- 


TEMGE WEDDED. 


185 


bling lips of the villain before him^ and from Mr. Ellerton, 
who stood at his side. 

Kalph, who had been leaning despondently upon a chair 
near by, sprang eagerly up and came nearer the deeply in- 
teresting group. 

At this instant, a sharp, shrill cry rang through the room, 
and a woman^s figure rushed frantically forward, and threw 
herself at the feet of him who stood at last revealed in his 
^ true character. 

It was the woman before mentioned, enveloped in the 
heavy cloalr. ^ 

Alfred Ellerton’s face paled to the hue of death, his heart 
throbbed wildly, and he shook in every limb as he stooped 
and gently raised the prostrate woman to her feet. 

She leaned against him, scarcely able to sustain her own 
weight. 

With nervous and trembling fingers he quickly unfas- 
tened her wrappings and cast them from her, revealing a 
tall, graceful form clad in a rich black velvet robe. 

She was queenly. Her hair, black as midnight, was 
twined around her small head like a coronet, but her face, 
which every one imagined must be beautiful, was hidden in 
her firembling hands. 

The man who so tenderly supported her drew them firmly 
but gently away, and eagerly scanned her face for a moment, 
then clasping her in a close, fond embrace, exclaimed, in 
joyful accents: 

^^Kose, my wifeT^ and she nestled in his arms once more, 
a happy wife, feeling that all was right, that he had been 
true to her all these years, was true to her still; and she 
trusted him with the full confidence of her noble, loving 
heart. 

Squire Moulton sank back nearly fainting, the moment 
his sister^s face was revealed to him, terror plainly depicted 
upon every feature. He knew and realized now that the 
castle of revenge which he had been -rearing all these long 
years was about to tumble and crush him in its fall. Oh, if 
he were only free he would fight his way from that dreadful 
place; he felt as if he could defy them all, were his arms 
only at liberty, or even if he had that cruel dagger which he 
had so cunningly prepared for another, he would plunge it 
into himself and thus escape his present torture. . 

Poor Kalph, as he saw those whom his heart told him 


mniCE WEDDED. 


186 

were his father and mother^ longed to spring forward and 
clasp the two to his heart; but — the doubt lingered still 
^^was he a lawful child So he controlled himself, and re- 
solved to wait for further developments. 


CHAPTER XXXIIL 

ALFKED ELLEKTON'S STORY. 

Alfred Ellerton raised the fair face that was hidden upOn 
his bosom, and tenderly kissed the rich, full lips of his wife; 
then wiping the tears from her splendid eyes, said: 

^^Rose, my wife, how came you here?'^ 

She smiled, such a sweet, rare smile, as his tender words 
fell upon her ears, and fondly replied: 

^"^Alfred, I forget everything now that I am here, and you 
call me by that dearest name — wife; and I would fain ignore 
all the past. But am I truly your wife?’^ 

^^Yes, dear, if you choose to remain such, after so many 
years of cruel desertion on my part. Why do you ask?^^ he 
added, a heavy frown clouding his brow. 

^‘Why! Because all this weary time I have believed that I 
was a ruined, abandoned woman; that you had taken from 
me the dearest treasure a woman possesses — my honor — and 
then left me to bear my shame alone; that you had won my 
hearPs best affections but to trample them beneath your feet, 
and worse than all else — left my child fatneness, and with- 
out a name.^^ 

^^Hush, Rose, hushP^ said the husband, soothingly, for 
she was becoming terribly excited, as the agony of years 
rushed over her heart and almost crushed her anew. 

‘‘I know all that you have suffered, my poor darling, he 
said; ‘‘but listen, and I will make everything as clear as 
noonday. I will tell you all that has happened to me since 
I last saw your dear face. Sit here, dear, and calm your- 
self, for it is a long story. 

He placed her in a chair, but remained standing by her 
side, holding her hand in his own. Then he said: 

“You are my own true wife, and have been for over 
twenty-five years, though I myself have sometimes feared 
that you had freed yourself from me during the years of our 
separation. 

“You remember, doubtless, the day I received a letter 


THRICE WEEDED. 


187 


calling me away on business. I went, bidding you a fond 
^good-by,^ but expecting to see you again in two or three 
days at most. My business took me aboard a vessel, where 
I met a friend who was just ready to sail for California; or, 
at least, he was ready to start in a few days. He urged me 
strongly to accompany him, and I was sorely tempted to 
give* him the desired promise, for he pictured in glowing 
colors the fortunes so easily made in the land of gold. 
Finally I left him, promising to go home and talk it over 
with you, and if you consented, I would join him before the 
vessel sailed. 

‘Ht seemed such a good opportunity that I longed to im- 
prove it. And then I was so poor I I could not give you 
the comforts and luxuries which you seemed so fitted to en- 
joy, and I knew it would take years to gain them plodding 
on in the old routine of life. All the way home I planned 
how I would work and save the year or two I intended to 
spend in California — for I thought that sufficient time in 
which to make a fortune where gold was so plenty. I would 
deny myself everything, that I might gain a competence for 
my darlings; then home again on the wings of love, and the 
earnest welcome I should receive. Then I would build a 
palace fit for my treasures, and spend the rest of our days 
in peace and plenty, 

^^Charming picture! But how quickly its bright and 
glowing colors vanished and faded from my sight! 

^^On entering our little home, eager to clasp you and my 
boy to my heart, I found it deserted. I searched every 
room, but no wife^s glad smile greeted me; no baby^s chubby 
arms were outstretched, eager to come to me. At last, in 
your work-basket, I found a closely written letter, saying 
that you had gone back to your home to stay — that you did 
not love me, as I had believed you did, and that you could 
not longer live in the presence of one who constantly made 
you unhappy. You said you never wished to see my face 
again, and that I was free from that moment to go where 
I chose. You closed your *cruel letter by positively forbid- 
ding me to seek you, saying you should not see me if I did; 
neither would you allow me to send you money, as you 
could not look for support fivm one whom you did not 
love. 

‘^Hush, dearest, till I have finished/^ he said, as she 
would h^ve interrupted him. 


188 


THUIGE WEDDED. 


know now that you did not pen one word of it; but I 
will tell you my story, and then you shall relate yours. You 
can imagine something of what my feelings were! At first 
I was stunned, overwhelmed; then grief filled my heart, and 
I was nearly crazy. Once I resolved to go to you and de- 
mand an explanation; but I knew your proud, willful 
spirit, and felt assured it would be of no avail. Ah! if I had 
but obeyed the instincts of my heart then, all this sorrow 
would have been spared us. 

^‘But my own pride began to assert itself, and, in a fit of 
desperation, I hastily packed a few things in a valise, and, 
with an almost breaking heart, I went back to the city, 
found my friend, and started for California. 

^‘There I toiled for many long, weary years, growing 
rich and prosperous beyond my most sanguine expectations, 
though I was often starving for a morsel of love — for a kiss 
and a smile from your sweet lips, and a glimpse of my baby 
boy. I still loved you, and clung to you, in spite of what 
I believed you to be — false! 

^^At last, about seven years ago, a man came among us 
who had lived near your former home. I immediately 
sought him and inquired after you and my boy. He told 
me that which made my blood boil, my heart furious, and 
realized who the schemer was — your vile brother! He said 
you returned home the day after I departed, and found a 
letter from me awaiting you, saying that I was tired of you, 
pronouncing our marriage a farce, telling you that I did 
not love you, and had left you forever. In a frenzy of grief 
and passion, you flew to the little casket where you had 
always kept out marriage certificate; but, lo! it was gone. 

‘‘I questioned him closely, asking how you had happened 
to leave home while I was gone. He said that you had re- 
ceived a letter the very day I left, saying that your father 
was ill, and you, somewhat alarmed at such an unusual 
occurrence, hastened to go to him; but finding him more 
comfort'uble than you expected, you returned the next day 
but one, fearing I would miss you. 

^^You found I had been there and gone, leaving, as you 
believed, that heartless letter behind me. He said you 
fainted when you read it; and only revived when the cries 
of the little one attracted the attention of some one pass- 
ing, who entered, and came to your assistance. Soon after 
you disappeared, and were only heard from when your 


THRICE WEDDED. 


189 


brother returned from abroad, bringing our boy with him, 
saying he had found jou in Naples, where, dying, you left 
Kalph to his care. 

^‘These were the facts which I gathered from the man. 

I immediately closed up my affairs and started for home, 
nearly heart-broken at the loss of you, and the knowledge 
of what you must have suffered, believing me false, and re- 
solving to claim my boy, and bring to justice the villain 
who had thus heartlessly plotted our ruin. 

‘‘I realized at once why he had done this wicked thing — 
that he was resolved to destroy the whole family of Eller- 
tons (even to the sacrificing of his only sister), because one 
of them had married the girl he loved. 

^‘The day I arrived in , I went directly to Squire 

Moulton^s house. I was passing up the avenue, with bitter 
and revengful thoughts in my heart, when I heard voices 
within a sort of arbor near by. I stopped to listen, and 
glancing between the branches I saw you (oh, how it makes 
my heart ache even now to think of it!) in soiled and 
tattered garments, pleading with your brother to take you 
to his heart again, and to give you your child. 

knew you at once by your voice, and by the haughty 
grace with which you lifted your head when he called you 
a beggar, and you answered: 

‘I am no beggar P 

nearly betrayed myself then, for I was about rushing 
forward to clasp you in my arms, when I remembered that 
you would not know me, for I had disguised myself so that 
your brother should not, recognize me until I had sounded 
him, and found out where my boy was. So I resolved to 
listen to what passed between you. I crouched among the 
bushes, and there remained until you fled from the place; 
then, when the heartless man followed, I showed myself, 
and half cajoled, half threatened him, into hiring me to 
steal those pictures from you. 

^^He engaged me, and I immediately followed you, saw 
you when you fainted, picked you up, took you into a cab, 
and while we were being driven to a house where I knew 
you would And kind attention, 1 took the locket from 
your bosom, leaving a fifty-dollar bill in its place, together 
with a few words, telling you to go to the post-office in a 
fortnight. 

^"Oh! how I longed to wait until you revived, and tell 


190 


THRICE WEDDED. 


you all. But I resolved that I would not reveal myself 
until I could bring you the proof of our marriage. 

knew well enough that your brother had stolen it, and 
I felt assured I could get it from him before many weeks 
passed. But I followed him from place to place, never 
gaining the opportunity I sought. 

^"At length he left the country, and I, determined not 
to be thwarted, immediately followed. I have at last 
succeeded in my efforts, and here is our marriage certifi- 
cate, proving beyond a doubt that you are my lawful wife. 
I got discouraged many and many a time, and once went 
to the house where I had taken you when yon fainted, but 
you were gone, and had left no address behind you, so I 
lost track of you, though I did not cease to blame myself 
for leaving you so long in ignorance of the true state of 
affairs. I ought to have gone to you in the beginning, and 
thus saved you all these years of suffering. Can you — will 
you forgive me, that I did not?^^ 

She smiled, and sealed his forgiveness with a kiss as he 
bent over her; then said, eagerly: 

^^But the pictures, Alf; where are they? You did not 
give them to him?” 

He too smiled as she uttered the old, fond name, and re- 
plied: 

took them to an artist, had them faithfully copied, 
then had another brooch made exactly like the original, 
and carried it to your scheming brother, who immediately 
threw it into the fire. But here is the original, safe and 
uninjured for you.” 

He drew it from his bosom, unfastened from his neck the 
chain to which he had it attached, and clasped it around 
her own. 

She seized it with eager, trembling fingers, opened it, and 
gazed with tender, tearful eyes upon the faces within. 
Then turning to her husband, she wailed: 

^‘But, Alfred, where is our boy? Oh! I have not seen 
him since I left him long years ago in Naples, though I 
begged and pleaded with my brother to take me to him.” 

There was a look of pain upon Alfred Eller ton^s fine face 
as he raised his eyes and glanced around upon the group in 
front of them. 

^^Here! Oh! mother! mother!” suddenly exclaimed a 
choking voice; and Ralph suddenly rushed forward, threw 


THRICE WERDED. M 

himself at his mother^s feet, and hid his tearful face in her 
lap. 

She raised his head and drew it to her bosom, put back 
the heavy black locks from his brow, and gazed earnestly 
into his flushed face. Then suddenly her mother's heart 
spoke, and she cried, in tenderest accents: 

^‘Oh, my boy! oh, my boy! can it be? Yes, it must be; 
my heart tells me that you are my child — my long lost 
deserted boy!" 

She rained kisses upon his brow, cheeks, and lips, while 
her own fast^dropping tears mingled with his. 

Alfred Ellerton regarded them with looks at once fond 
and proud, stern and sorrowful, until at length he said: 

‘Tias my son no word for his father?" 

Ealph rose to his feet at once, while the hot blood 
mounted to his brow. 

He realized that his father knew what he was — that all 
his plots and evil deeds were known to him; and he stood 
sad and humble before him, his heart nearly bursting with 
shame and sorrow for what he had done — also with joy and 
gratitude that he had found a father and a mother, and 
that there was no longer a doubtful stain upon his name. 

He raised his eyes, and met the sorrowful gaze of his 
parent, and stretching out his hands, as if beseeching his 
love and forgiveness, he uttered the one word: 

‘^Father!" 

^‘My son!" 

Their hands clasped, and father and son wept tears 
which were an honor to their manhood, and the sight of 
which caused other eyes to fill. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

FORGIVEKESS. 

It was several minutes ere the reunited family could com- 
pose themselves. But at length Alfred Ellerton conquered 
in a measure his emotion, and said: 

thank Heaven for these unexpected and unmerited 
blessings. It is more than I ever hoped for, to have both 
wife and child restored to me at once. But, my son, we will 
now listen to your mother's story, after which we will hear 
what you may have to tell us. I know my dear ones have 


192 


mniCB WEDDED. 


seen mucli of suffering, but I trust all is over now, and that 
the future has only blessings in store for us/^ 

Kalph turned again to his mother, seated himself by her 
side, and took her delicate hand in his. 

She smiled a sweet, fond smile at the caressing touch, and 
clasped her other hand over it, then turning to her husband, 
began her tale: 

‘"My life has been a dreary one indeed! When I returned 
to our home, Alfred, and found your letter, or what I sup- 
posed to be yours, and also that the only proof of our mar- 
riage w'as missing, I could not do otherwise than believe you 
false and heartless, as your cruel words indicated. 

believe I was deranged for awhile, for I remembered 
nothing for several days after. Finally, I went to my brother 
Ralph, and questioned him. 

^‘1 knew he never had liked you, and had never felt 
the same toward me after I married you; but I was not 
prepared for the fury and abuse which burst forth upon my 
defenseless head, when I asked him if he knew anything 
about your sudden disappearance. He answered affirm- 
atively, saying he knew you were a vile and unprincipled 
man; that he had warned me against you in the beginning, 
but I had chosen my path in life, and now must walk in it; 
he would have nothing to do with a nameless outcast like 
myself. 

bore all meekly until he hinted that you had fled to the 
arms of another; then with a shriek of agony I took my 
child, and I too fled! 

cared not where I went, so that I hid my shame and 
sorrow from familiar and prying eyes. My brother, glory- 
ing in my anguish, had already blazed the story of your de- 
sertion around, and I left the place, leaving no clew by which 
they could trace me. 

sold my jewels, which, though few in number, were 
rare, and realized sufficient to take me abroad; and I went 
to Naples. There for a year or two I lived quietly with my 
baby. He was my only comfort, for I shunned acquain- 
tances, and lived wholly by myself. 

^‘Finally he sickened, and I feared he would die. For 
weeks I watched him, giving myself no rest, until the fever 
turned, and I knew he would live. Had I lost my idol 
then, I think I should have taken my own life; existence 
without him would have been such a burden, I prayed as 


TimicB Wedded. 


193 


only a broken-hearted wife and mother can pray, and 
Heaven in His mercy heard, and gave me back my child from 
the jaws of death ! 

^^Then my slender stock of money began to fail, and it 
was the old, old story of cruel poverty, seeking for employ- 
ment, and finding scarcely sufficient to sustain life. 

^^At length when Ealph was four years old, my own health 
began to fail, though I still dragged myself about, and strove 
to work that he need not go hungry. 

^^One day I sat drearily gazing from my window, when 
my eyes fell upon a familiar form. I started wildly to my 
feet, and looked again. I could not be mistaken, and my 
heart beat with fresh hope and courage, for I felt assured 
that help was near. 

^^That familiar form was my brother Ealph, I rushed 
forth, followed him at a distance, and found out the place 
where he stopped, resolving to go to him the day following, 
and claim his care and protection, 

^•Alas, for human plans! That night I was taken violently 
ill, and when morning came I felt that my earthly race was 
almost run. I immediately sent for my brother, and he 
came. But only to curse me anew, and taunt me with my 
shame and degradation, and to swear that he would do 
nothing for me. I begged and pleaded that he would take 
my boy, and care for him, when I was gone, telling him I 
felt I could not live a week; but with a heart like adamant, 
he turned from me, and, as I thought, left me to die alone, 
and my darling to the cold care of strangers. 

^^But, contrary to all expectations, my disease took a favor- 
able turn, and I grew better immediately. Still, I was so 
destitute and friendless that my heart nearly failed me at 
the prospect of continued toil and poverty, with no one to 
encourage or lend me a helping hand. 

^^A week passed, and I was able to sit up. One day, 
with a heart full of sorrow, and forebodings of ill, as I sat 
clasping my boy in my arms, as if I could thus shield him 
from all harm, I chanced to turn my gaze without, and saw 
Ealph coming again toward my dwelling. 

^ ‘My heart told me at once that his coming was not to 
benefit me, but that he thought I was no more, and, with 
a dim spark of humanity still flickering in his bosom, he 
had determined to care for my boy. 

made a sudden resolution, and, hastening to the 


194 


THRICE WEDDED. 


woman who had charge of the house where I lived, and who 
was a gentle, kind-hearted creature, I hastily told her my 
situation, and begged her to tell my brother that I was 
buried. 

^‘It was no lie that I urged her to speak, for I intended 
to effectually bury and hide myself henceforth from every 
one whom I had ever known or ever seen. 

^‘The woman consented to do my bidding, from pity of 
me and my suffering child; and with an almost bursting 
heart I gave my idol the last embrace, and fled from the 
house to see him no more. 

‘^My plot worked well. For Ralph Moulton took my 
child, gave him his own name, believing I was dead, and 
has reared him till the present moment. But, oh! better 
would it have been had I kept him with me, to suffer 
poverty and illness, hunger and thirst, and brought him up 
as best I could under the influences of a tender, loving 
heart, than to have committed him, so pure and innocent, 
to the care of one so vile and heartless, so devoid of prin- 
ciple, and all that makes a man good and noble. Oh! my 
boy, forgive your mother, for she erred unconsciously, 
believing she deserted you only for your future good. 

felt you would never suffer hunger any more, that 
you would receive an education such as I craved for you, 
and perhaps in the end so twine yourself around your 
nucleus heart that he would make you the heir of his vast 
wealth. 

^‘But I know, my darling, by the hungry look in your 
eyes, that you have starved for the want of a little love and 
tenderness. 

The lovely woman turned her eyes pleadingly upon 
Ralph for a moment, then, with a passionate burst of tears 
bowed her stately head upon his shoulder. 

He clasped her convulsively to him, and in a broken, 
husky voice replied: 

^ ^Mother — the sweetest name I have ever spoken — it is I 
who should ask your forgiveness for not better improving 
the privileges which, to gain for me, you doomed yourself 
to a solitary, loveless life. It is I who should sue for par- 
don, that I have allowed my heart to become like a garden 
full of noxious weeds, instead of bright blooming flowers, 
whose fragrance and beauty would now be grateful to you, 
and in a measure repay you for your great sacrifice/^ 


THBIGE WEDDED, 


195 


She would have stopped him with a kiss, but he gently 
restrained her, saying, with a sad smile: 

let me lay bare my whole heart to you, and show 
you that I am not wholly hardened and depraved. I know 
I have too willingly been influenced to do evil and crime, 
but I beg that you will believe me when I say that I have 
often felt the stingings and upbraidings of conscience, and 
I now humbly repent all the evil I have ever done or con- 
templated doing. Say that you forgive me, my sweet 
mother, and you too, my father, and I promise you that 
my life henceforth shall be devoted to your comfort and 
happiness, and to the atonement of injuries which I have 
done to others.^' 

^^Bless you, my boy!'^ said Rose Ellerton, raising her face 
radiant with happiness; ^^your words make my &art leap 
for joy, and I seal your pardon thus.^^ 

She took his pale grave face between her slender hands, 
and kissed him lovingly upon his quivering lips. 

Then, with a half-drawn sob, he turned for that other 
pardon he so much desired. 

It was not denied him! 

Alfred Ellerton clasped his ^on^s hand warmly, and said, 
with a deeper feeling: 

thank Heaven, my son, for this confession, and I be- 
lieve you are sincere in your repentance. All our lives, 
thus far, have nearly proved a failure, but together we will 
strive to make the future atone for the past, and, in trying 
to do right, yet receive much of the joy and happiness 
that for so many years have been denied us. Still,^^ he 
added, gravely, and with an anxious glance at Ralph, 
^^there is one wrong you have done that demands immedi- 
ate reparation. It has caused me more sorrow than all else, 
and is, I believe, your greatest sin. Are you willing to 
atone for it, Ralph? I mean the wrong you have done Miss 
Dupont this evening. 

Ralph sprang quickly to his feet, his face crimson with 
mingled shame, sorrow, and remorse. 

He made no reply to his father^s words, but walking 
bravely to where Dora stood, her hand clasped in Robert’s, 
said manfully, but humbly: 

Miss Dupont, if you do not hate me too much to listen to 
my words, I would implore your pardon for my shameful 
persecution, and for what I forced you to this evening, to- 


196 


THRIGE WEDDED. 


gether with the suffering I have caused you. And believe 
me when I say I gladly yield you up to one who is n abler 
in every respect than I. I will not deny,^^ he continued, 
while a look of regret passed over his face, ^^that you have 
been very dear to me, and that I had intended forcing you 
to recognize the tie which I compelled ycu tacitly to submit 
to to-night, vainly believing that in time I could teach you 
to return my affection. Once more I implore you to for- 
give me, and allow me the pleasure of saying that you are 
free; though the mockery we listened to an hour or so since 
was in no way binding, still, it affords me satisfaction to bid 
you go free.^^ 

Dorans eyes had flashed indignantly when he came for- 
ward and began to address her, but long before he was done 
she was sobbing with sympathy for him; and now, wiping 
the bright drops from her heavenly eyes, with something of 
her own impulsiveness she held out her dainty hand toward 
him, and said, sweetly: 

^‘Mr. Moulton — no, let me call you by your right name, 
and a better one — Mr. Ellerton, you have my full and free 
pardon. 

^‘Thanks!” was all he could utter, and stooping, he kissed 
the little hand outstretched to him. He then turned to 
Eobert, and was about to crave a like pardon from him, 
but he stopped him, saying heartily, as he shook his 
hand: 

^^No, my boy, don’t say one word. I know all you would 
ask, and it is freely granted. I owe you a debt of gratitude 
for saving the life of my father. Yes, he has told me all 
about it,''’ he said, in answer to Kalph’s look of inquiry, then 
added, ^^and now let us be friends, as well as cousins, for- 
get the past, and live as persons who are so nearly connected 
should live. How I must go and greet your new-found 
friends.'’^ 

He turned quickly away, and went to speak to his aunt 
and uncle, to allow Ealph time to recover himself, for he 
was entirely overcome at this unlooked-for cordiality. 

Then there was a general hand-shaking, while good wishes 
and congratulations passed blithely from lip to lip between 
the reunited friends. 


THRICE WEDDED. 


397 


OHAPTEE XXXV. 

FURTHER DISCLOSURES. 

When their boisterous joy had subsided a little, Alfred 
Ellertou turned again to his wife and said : 

^‘My love, your story was rather unceremoniously inter- 
rupted. If you feel equal to it, I would like to hear how 
you spent all those long years, after you gave up our boy.’^ 

There was a tenderness in his voice, as he pronounced the 
words ^‘^our boy,^^ that brought the tears to Ealph^s eyes, 
and, seeking his mother^s side again, he remained a rapt 
listener while she continued her tale. 

‘T lived, she said, ^^most of the time quite comfortably 
by the effort of my needle. But sometimes, when too ill 
to work, I was very destitute. I left Naples and went into 
a quiet village, where the people were kind and friendly, 
and after a while my life became quite peaceful, but, oh, 
so lonely. 

^^Einally a long and weary sickness unfitted me for labor 
of any kind, and I resolved to return to my native land and 
make one last appeal to Ealph. 

had not quite money enough to defray my expenses, 
so I pawned everything but a few necessary articles and the 
precious brooch. 

went to him, and the result you know, as you say you 
heard all that passed between us. When I fied from him 
that day, I thought my heart was breaking. I felt so 
friendless, homeless, and so weary of life, that I longed to 
die and be at rest. The last I remembered, as I wandered 
through the streets of the city, was falling heavily upon the 
pavement, believing that I was dying. When I again re- 
covered consciousness it was far into the night, and the 
woman in whose care you say you had left me was bending 
kindly over me, I asked her where I was and what was the 
matter. She told me that I had fainted in the street, and 
a gentleman had brought me there in a cab. 

remembered all then, and somewhat anxiously felt in 
my bosom for my treasured pictures. Imagine my grief 
and indignation when I found they were gone. All I pos- 


198 


THHIGE WEDDED, 


sessed on earth to link me to the joys of the past taken by a 
cruel, relentless hand . from me, for I felt convinced that I 
had been robbed by my brother. All hope was crushed out 
of my heart, for now’ I had nothing with which to prove my 
identity. Once again I thrust my Iiand in my bosom, hop- 
ing tliat I had missed my treasure in my search. I only 
found the paper containing the fifty-dollar bill, and upon 
which were the words bidding me go to the post-office in a 
•fortnight. 

^‘Then I was convinced that my brother was the robber, 
and perhaps, feeling a touch of remorse, had left the money 
in its place. I could not do otherwise than accept my fate, 
cruel though it was, and at the end of that fortnight I went 
as directed to the office. I found an envelope directed to 
‘Eose Moulton^ awaiting me. It contained another fifty 
dollars, with instructions to go for the same every fort- 
night. 

still thought the money came from my brother, and 
accepted it as my rightful due. I resolved at once to im- 
prove my condition and appearance, and, when 1 had be- 
come something like the Eose Moulton of former years, to 
seek my son, in spite of all opposition, tell him my story, 
and rely on the natural love-instincts of the heart to own 
and greet me as his mother. 

^‘But while I waited and prepared, he and his uncle disap- 
peared. After a few years I heard of them in New York. 
In the meantime I had lived comfortably, with plenty of 
means at my command, and really looked like my own self 
once more. 

^‘I immediately went to New York, but when I arrived 
there I found that they whom I sought had gone abroad. I 
learned their destination from the lawyer whom I engaged 
to receive my remittances and forward them to me, and im- 
mediately followed them. 

^^I only arrived this morning, and hearing the story of 
the unfortunate lady who was to be forced to wed my son, 
also of the expedition formed to prevent it, I wrapped my- 
self in this heavy cloak and followed, little dreaming of tlfe 
happiness and joy that awaited 

‘^Oh, what is there of evil that you have not done, wretch 
that you are?^^ said Alfred Ellerton, sternly, turning to the 
squire, who had sat in a state of torture, as he listened to 
the stories just related. 


mniCE WEDDED. 


199 


Now he ground his teeth with rage at the sight of their 
joy, but replied, with a fiendish leer: 

have the satisfaction of knowing that my plots worked 
well for twenty years, even if they do fail in the end/^ 

^‘Silence, fiend; the day of reckoning is for you at 
hand!^^ 

He subsided again into a dogged and sullen silence. 

^‘But, Alfred, how came you to get the certificate again? 
you have not told me,^^ said Eose, turning again to her 
husband. 

told you that I followed him for a long time. I knew 
he must have stolen it, for I had never opened the casket 
which contained it except in your presence. I felt assured, 
too, that he would either keep it about his person, or 
else destroy it, and I resolved to satisfy myself, feeling it 
was well worthy an effort. In my disguise I went to the 
inn where he and Ralph put up, and while the maids were 
getting their supper the night they arrived, I went into the 
kitchen and slyly drugged their coffee. My room was di- 
rectly back of theirs, with only a closet between, and after 
they were asleep (sound asleep, too, I assure you they were, 
for it was a powerful drug I used) I removed a board from 
the partition in the closet, entered their apartment, and 
searched until I found this precious bit of paper. 

He put it in her hand as he ceased speaking, and she 
clutched it eagerly, while her eyes fiew swiftly over it, de- 
vouring every word; then, with a smile and a sigh of in- 
tense relief, she hid it within her bosom. 

concealed myself several times in that closet, con- 
tinued her husband, ^^and in that way learned much of the 
treachery that was afloat. 

The squire gave a howl of rage at this disclosure, and mut- 
tered a horrible oath, while Ralph hung his head in shame 
and confusion. 

^‘Now, my^ precious wife,^^ said Alfred Ellerton, without 
heeding the interruption, believe I have told you every- 
thing you care to know, unless I repeat that I have an 
abundance of this world^s goods, and that your future life 
shall be one bright dream of happiness, if my devotion 
and love can make it such. We will improve every mo- 
ment, and strive to forget in the joy of the present the bit- 
terness and suffering of the past. But,^^ he added, quickly 
turning and glancing around, have a couple of friends 


200 


mniOE WEDDED. 


here who have, also, something against this peace-destroying 
wretch; and when they have settled with him we will leave 
this place for more agreeable quarters. 

He turned away, as he spoke, to see the Italians before 
mentioned, while the squire, with an uneasy, and anxious 
expression upon his yellow face, remained waiting and 
watching, not without cause, for further painful develop- 
ments. 


CHAPTEE XXXVL 

UKBROKEl^ FAITH. 

We left poor Enid Chichester in a faint in the arm- 
chair, into which she had fallen on discovering who the 
bridegroom was; and there she had remained unnoticed and 
uncared for until the excitement had somewhat subsided 
— until every smuggler was firmly bound and put under close 
and watchful guard. 

Then some of her fair sisters had discovered her and im- 
mediately set about her restoration. For a long time the 
efforts of her friends were unsuccessful, but, at last, with 
a heavy sigh, she opened her eyes and gazed wonderingly 
around her. 

Soon she remembered where she was — why she was there, 
and what had happened — that he — he who had promised to 
devote himself to the work of liberating her — he upon whom 
she had placed her whole dependence, her whole faith and 
trust, was married to another; worse than that! was the 
wretch who had heartlessly forced the bonds of w^edlock upon 
an unwilling bride; and with a moan of pain she covered her 
beautiful face with her hands. 

^^What is it, Enid — what made you faint gently asked 
one of her friends. 

She started as if suddenly smitten with a rod, at the ques- 
tion. Disagreeable as the fact might be, she realized that 
her heart had gone out to this same sinful and erring man, 
with all its freshness and wealth of affection; in plain words, 
that she loved him, in spite of the hideous and glaring 
colors in which he now stood revealed. 

But she would die before she would ever let any one sus- 
pect the truth. So, setting her little teeth firmly together, 
and tossing her head defiantly, she said, in reply to the 
query of her friend: 


THBICE WEBBED. 


201 


nothing but a nervous shock, from which I shall 
soon recover/^ Then, anxious to turn the conversation 
from herself, she added: ^‘But what does all this mean? — 
and what makes you all look so happy 

They explained everything to her, while she listened, 
laughing and crying at the same time, with joy that once 
more they would all see home and friends. 

Finally, when Enid grew more calm, they all arose and 
joined the group where such interesting revelations were be- 
ing made, and where Eose Ellerton had just thrown herself 
at the feet of her husband. They listened with intense in- 
terest to the story of the long-parted husband and wife, and 
Enid began to feel her heart warming toward Ralph again 
when she heard how he had been deprived of a mothers in- 
fluence all his life, and in the clutches of his vile uncle. 

Then, when he so humbly begged forgiveness, her warm 
heart grew sympathetic, and poor little Enid^s deflance and 
pride all melted away like the dew before the sun, and bow- 
ing her pretty head, she sobbed out her pity and her love-*- 
pity for the painful remorse he felt, and the trial he did not 
spare himself in confessing it, and love for the good that her 
tender, womanly heart told her was in him. 

Ralph had* seen her tears, and half-interpreting their 
cause, his heart bounded; and when his mother had finished 
her story, and his father had gone to seek the Italians, he 
arose, and approached her. 

^‘Miss Chichester, why do you weep?^^ he asked, gently. 

She started violently at the sound of his voice, and then 
looked up at him. 

The instant their eyes met both colored deeply, and the 
young girl drooped her gaze, as she replied: 

‘^Who could help weeping at all this happiness and good 
that has come so unexpectedly?^^ 

‘T know strange things have developed themselves here 
to-night; but,^^ he added, with a touch of sadness in his 
voice, ^^do you remember what you promised me this morn- 
ing?^" 

^^Yes, I do remember.^^ 

have come to release you from that pledge. You must 
have seen, ere this, that I am unworthy to perform such a 
duty, and though I know you have no friends to care for 
you, yet knowing what you now do of me, I feel I have no 


20-2 


THBICE WEDDED. 


right to expect you to trust in me. But I will find some one 
who will care for you faithfully/^ 

His voice was full of regret and self-depreciation, and the 
sound of it brought the tears again to the fair girFs eyes. 
But she hastily lifted her head, and glanced half-defiantly 
at him, as if daring him to accuse her of being unmaidenly 
in what she was about to say, and replied: 

^‘1 do not desire to be released from my promise.^^ 

‘‘Miss Chichester! surely you do not mean it^^^ he said, 
eagerly, his whole face lighting brilliantly. 

“Yes, Mr. Ellerton, I do.^^ 

“And can vou trust me still, after knowing what you 

dor 

“I can. Do you not remember what I said this morning 
— that you might do something, impelled by the force of 
circumstances, that would merit my severest censure, but 
that even then I should feel there were goodness and truth 
in you. My words have proved true! There is much of 
good in you; I feel that you were intended for a noble man, 
and had the influences around you been pure, you would 
never have been led into such evil ways. I feel that the 
words you only a short time since uttered were sincere, and 
I have no wish to retract anything that I have pledged, 
least of all my faith in you.^^ 

Kalph gazed at her in wondering admiration! 

“I cannot tell you. Miss Chichester, he said, “how 
deeply grateful I am for your confidence in me. Your words 
move me more than I can express; they give me new cour- 
age, they inspire me with a blessed hope." 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

GOIS^E TO HIS DOOM. 

Meanwhile Alfred Ellerton had found the Italian broth- 
ers, who had retreated into the background when the long- 
lost wife presented herself; but they now came forward, and 
stood proudly and coldly before the squire, having first 
sought and found Vivien, who still remained with Fredrich 
Weimher, both seeming to find an irresistible charm in each 
0 therms society. 

They, too, came near, but took their places behind Squire 


TBRiCE WEl)mt>. 


m 


Moulton, where he could not see them until the proper mo- 
ment should arrive for Vivien to reveal herself. 

^‘Well, what now?^^ snarled the villain, as, on looking up, 
he beheld, as he supposed, two of the smugglers standing in 
front of him. 

^^Your doomT^ was the stern response, while both men 
threw aside their rough garments, and stood revealed in 
their true characters as Italian noblemen. 

A shriek of craven fear rang long and loud throughout 
the lofty cavern, and finally died away among the glittering 
arches above; then a death-like silence ensued for a few mo- 
ments, while, with rigid face and starting eyes, the unhappy 
wretch gazed upon the forms before him as if they had been 
ghosts from the other world, come back to haunt and tor- 
ture him with fearful memories. 

At length ths elder spoke, in tones that froze the listeners^ 
blood. 

^^Our oath is nearly fulfilled, and the fearful wrong you 
did our sister is about to be avenged, and justice will at last 
be done. We have hunted and tracked you for long, long 
years; we have seen you plot evil and suffering for others, 
and only waited for a favorable opportunity to wreak our 
own vengeance upon you. That opportunity has at last ar- 
rived. You are soon to be called to account for your treach- 
erous and sin-blackened career.^’ 

^^Oh, you will not kill me; you will let me live a little 
longer cried the wretched man, trembling with terror. 

^^Who killed our sister? Who came into a peaceful, lov- 
ing family, created discord and sorrow, blighted every joy 
and hope it had ever known, dishonored its fair name, and 
broke the hearts of a loving father and a tender, devoted 
daughter? Do you deserve to be spared? Think you there 
is one iota of pity in my heart for such a wretch as you? 
No! As I said before, your doom is sealed, and justice shall 
have her due.^^ 

‘^Mercy — mercy the squire gasped, writhing in agony at 
their feet. 

^^MercyP thundered Count Gerient, of Lamerack. 
^^Were you merciful when you deserted her whose innocent 
heart and affections were won by your artful schemes, whom 
you made your wife that you might fill your purse with gold, 
and finding none, pronounced your marriage a trick, broke 
her gentle heart, and heartlessly left her to suffer poverty 


^04 


thrice wedbee. 


and childbirth alone. Mercy to such as you? Wretch, 
unnatural father, who never cared even to look upon his 
offspring’s face, or clasp in his arms the tiny creature formed 
from his own flesh and blood! No! no mercy shall be shown 
you; we have sworn it, and our oath is inviolable.’^ 

The cringing villain turned shiveringly to his sister; his 
teeth chattered in his head, and huge drops of cold perspir- 
ation rolled down his shrunken cheeks. 

Oh, Rose,” he cried, ^^plead for me; do not let them mur- 
der me; think how I reared your boy; I cared for him for 
over twenty years, and do I not deserve something for it? I 
cannot die now. I shall go to eternal perdition — oh, save 
me, save me!” 

His sister’s lips curled slightly at the sight of his ab- 
ject fear, though her face was pale as death as she replied, 
huskily: 

^Tt would please me better, Ralph Moulton, to see you 
on your knees pleading to Heaven for mercy. You cannot 
expect much love from me, though I would that you had 
time to repent.” 

‘^Oh, Heaven! will no one help me?” 

^^Here cometh one, and it shall be as she says,” sternly 
said the Count Gerient, as he beckoned Vivien to come for- 
ward. 

She came, pale as marble, but beautiful as an angel, lean- 
ing upon Fredrich Weimher’sarm. 

Slowly, softly she glided forward, and stood before the 
kneeling wretch. 

He did not see her at once, she had come so silently; but 
chancing to raise his eyes after a moment, he instantly 
started wildly to his feet, his eyes protruded from their 
sockets, his nostrils dilated, and his under jaw dropped like 
a dead man’s. 

^‘Back!” screamed Squire Moulton, frantically. ^^Back 
to the land of spirits whence you came. Heavens! why 
come you here to torture me thus?” 

^^Villain, it is your daughter!” said her uncle, solemnly. 

^Tt is a lie! Back with you — come no nearer — mercy — 
Vivien !” 

With a shriek of mortal agony that pierced every heart 
like an arrow, that rang and echoed, and rang again through 
that lofty, spacious cavern, curdling the blood in every 
vein, and paling every cheek with horror, the miscreant, by 


THRICE WEDDED, 


205 


a mighty effort, burst the fetters that bound his hands, 
waved them wildly in the air for a moment, then tottered 
forward, swaying from side to side, and fell prostrate again 
at Yivien^s feet. 

With a moan of fear and anguish, the lovely girl closed 
her eyes upon the horrible scene, and sank fainting upon 
the bosom of him who supported her. Ralph and his father 
sprang forward and raised the form of the prostrate squire; 
but life had fled, and they raised only a stiffening corpse. 

The heart disease that so many years had threatened him, 
hanging like an avenging sword ever above him, had cut 
him down in an instant and he had gone to his reward; 
gone to where justice would be dealt unto him, not by the 
weak and erring hands of humanity, but by a stern and 
righteous Judge. 


CHAPTER XXXVIIL 

FREE AT LAST. 

An hour later a happy company, comprising the reunited 
husband and wife, the happy lovers, and the lovely but 
now joyous and hopeful maidens, who long had been held 
in captivity within that wonderful underground palace, 
might be seen wending their way toward the large and com- 
modious inn where Madame Alroyd and Dora, also Mr. 
Ellerton, had taken rooms on first entering the place. 

Mine hosPs face glowed all over with sympathy, delight, 
and genial hospitality, as he welcomed so many illustrious 
people beneath his comfortable roof. 

It was not often that anything so interesting and exciting 
occurred in the quiet village, a proof of which might be 
seen in this honest landlord's flurried manner, as he rushed 
hither and thither, giving an order here, and counter- 
manding one there. But at last all was right, every one 
was comfortably settled, and every eye closed in sound and 
peaceful slumber, and every heart forgetting in its gentle 
embrace the thrilling events of the few hours previous. 

The fated smugglers were left behind within the cavern, 
under a strong and watchful guard, until morning, when 
they were handcuffed and chained in pairs, and then sent 
from the place to be tried and sentenced by the country's 
laws, which for so many years they had boldly and success- 
fully defied. 


THRICE WEDt)m 


206 

The body of the squire was quietly interred in a wild and 
secluded spot not far from the sea, the people refusing to 
allow so wicked a man to be buried in their sacred grounds. 
A plain shaft of marble, bearing his name, age, and the 
date of his death, was erected over his lonely grave, and he 
was left to sleep even as he had lived — alone. 

For a week after these events the hotel where our friends 
sojourned was a scene of hilarity and joy, such as the wide 
old rooms had not witnessed in many a year; then the gay 
and happy company broke up, and all departed, to go their 
different ways. 

The lovely captives, all except Vivien and Enid, were 
placed under the care and protection of good old Father 
Francis, together with an abundance of means, to be con- 
veyed to their several homes, where all arrived safely, as 
Vivien learned through loving letters received from her 
affectionate and grateful charges. Having satisfactorily 
accomplished the mission with which he was intrusted, the 
good father returned to his former duties in a distant 
convent. 

Dora claimed Vivien and Enid, declaring that they should 
accompany her on the remainder of her tour, which she 
was unwilling to give up, though madam would have pre- 
ferred going straight home, after receiving such a fearful 
fright. 

Vivien consented to make one of their party, but Enid 
gravely shook her head and said ^^no; she must go to her 
own home and attend to her estates, which so long had lain 
without an owner. But,^^ she added, trying to smile, 
though her heart was sad and heavy, ^T will return and get 
everything in order, and be prepared to receive you all 
when your travels are ended, six months hence, and we will 
have a joyful reunion before the final separation, and each 
return to his and her, own fireside. 

So it was agreed, and lovely Enid Chichester bade them 
all a tearful farewell, and departed with Nina and Mr. 
Ellerton, who had promised to see her safely within the 
halls of her ancestors, and then join his own party in Paris, 
whither they had decided to go. 

Poor Ealph was disconsolate enough at this arrangement, 
for he had come to love the ^‘sparkling little English 
Gem,^' as they called her, with the purest affection of his 
heart; but he had obtained a promise that she would write 


TmiCE WEDDED. 


207 


to him, and he tried to content himself with that poor con- 
solation, resolving that when his six months’ probation — 
for he knew she meant it as such by the look she gave him 
when she bade him good-by — was over that he would tell 
his love, and win, if possible, the beautiful Enid for his 
wife. 

Madame Alroyd, Dora and Kobert, Vivien and Fredrick 
Weimher (who had discovered that he could not exist be- 
yond the presence of the fair Italian), Alfred Ellerton, with 
Kose, his wife, and Ealph, then all bade a final farewell to 
Germany, and departed for gay, thoughtless, charming 
Paris. 

Vivien’s two uncles returned to their native country, to 
fair and lovely Italy, with its sunny skies and fragrant vine- 
yards, to prepare a home for the idol of their hearts, where 
she was to dwell with them after the promised reunion at 
Chichester Hall. 


CHAPTEE XXXIX. 

A GOOD OME]^. 

The six months were past. 

Behold! upon a lofty hill, surrounded by magnificent 
beeches, whose overhanging boughs make a royal arch of 
green above the smoothly graveled drive-way that encircles 
it, stands a grand old castle, the very air around which 
breathes of centuries and aristocracy. 

On this brilliant day its massive portals were swung wide 
open. 

A magnificent floral arch was erected over the wide en- 
trance, while above it, in letters of gilt, is inscribed that 
sweetest of words, Welcome! And garlands and festoons 
hung suspended through every room and hall, as if clad in 
holiday attire, in honor of loved and long expected guests. 

The great drawing-room on the left of the grand old hall 
is redolent with the richest perfume, and within it, pacing 
up and down its spacious length, clad in her rich and trail- 
ing robes, is the fair mistress of all this grandeur and mag- 
nificence — lovely Enid Chichester. 

Hope and joy beam in her eyes, a flush is upon her soft 
cheek, which creeps higher and higher with every passing 
moment, while smiles part her ruby lips, showing the gleam- 
ing pearls between. 


m 


THEICE WEDDED. 


Suddenly she starts ; a happy, expectant look is upon 
her face, as she bends eagerly forward in a listening at- 
titude. 

Yes, she is not deceived; the sound of approaching wheels, 
grating upon the graveled drive- way, comes in through the 
open hall, and with a joyous cry she bounds out to receive 
her friends. 

Three heavy traveling carriages drew up before the hospi- 
table door, their glowing occupants alighted,.and immediately 
all was gay confusion; handshaking until the bones ached, 
kissing and congratulations. 

At last all was over and settled in his or her respective 
apartments, and the next two or three days were given up to 
resting, after their long and tedious journey. 

Enid did the honors as mistress, as she did everything 
else, gracefully, and dispensed her hospitality with a lavish 
hand, her heart overflowing with excess of joy in the happi- 
ness she was contributing and receiving. 

One morning, soon after the arrival, she arose early, and 
descending the grand old stair-way, went, softly humming 
to herself, into the library, where she intended to have a 
quiet hour all her own, before her guests should come down 
to breakfast. 

The morning sun streamed brightly in through the low, 
open window, which led out upon a balcony overlooking the 
park. With a sigh of pleasure Enid seated herself in an 
inviting arm-chair, and lay back among its cushions, with a 
smile of happiness upon her sweet lips, wholly forgetful of 
the book she held in her hand, and which she had intended 
reading, and wholly unconscious that a pair of flne dark 
eyes were tenderly regarding her from behind the heavy 
curtains which draped the balcony window. 

Neither did she hear a step upon the soft carpet, or real- 
ize the presence of any one, until a fragrant waxen capejas- 
mine was suddenly dropped from above into her lap. 

She started then, and looked quickly up, but flushed the 
deepest crimson, as she met the earnest gaze of Ealph Eller- 
ton, who was bending over the back of her chair. 

^^Why, good-morning, Mr. Eller ton, she said, striving to 
cover her confusion by speaking lightly. ^^How you sur- 
prised me. I thought I was the only one stirring so early 
this morning. 


THRICE WEDDED. 


209 


^‘Pardon me for startling you, but I have oeen up since 
sunrise, 

‘Over the hills and far away.* 

I have but just come in, and stepped out upon the balcony 
to enjoy the glorious view.^^ 

is fine, isn^t it? Poor papa used to enjoy it so much,^^ 
she replied, sadly, the tears springing to her eyes; then ad- 
ded, ‘‘This was always his favorite resort, and he would 
sit for hours upon the balcony and gaze upon the scenery 
around. 

She picked up the fiower he had thrown into her lap, in- 
haled its fragrance, and then fastened it upon her bosom. 

He smiled slightly at the act, and she, suddenly looking 
up, caught his eye fixed upon her, and again the rich blood 
suffused her face, but she did not remove the flower. 

“Enid/^ said Kalph, tenderly, “may I interpret that as 
a good omen? May I tell you of my love after waiting so 
long?^^ 

“There is no need to tell it, Ealph; I knew it long ago,^^ 
she replied, in tones as tender, and with an irresistible 
frankness. 

“Darling, your tones tell me if your words do not, that 
you return it, unworthy as I am,^^ he said, as he passion- 
ately clasped her in his arms. 

“Yes, Kalph, I do; I loved you before I left that horrid 
cavern, and it almost broke my neart when I thought you 
the husband of another. But even after I found you were 
free again, I would not encourage you to speak the words 
which I knew were on your lips, for I wished to try you 
first, to prove the good I felt there was in you.'’^ 

“Bless you for your frankness; but you will perhaps be 
surprised when I tell you that my heart forgot its allegi- 
ance to that other the moment I first beheld you.^^ 

“Then why did you persist?^’ hastily interrupted Enid, 
raising her radiant face in surprise, then blushing scarlet 
again as she remembered it must wound him to be thus re- 
minded of the past. 

“It is all right, darling, he returned, noticing her con- 
fusion, and clasping her again to him. “I wish you to know 
me just as I am. I persisted in the evil I had begun, merely 
. because my will and my pride would not yield to my heart. 
But I cannot express the gratitude I feel for the gift of your 
precious lovO. I know 


210 


THRICE WEBBED. 


Ealph, you are not to talk that way any more. 
You have done wrong, and you own it and repent of it. It 
is enough. None are perfect, and I have my faults, as you 
will find out one of these days. I love you just as you are 
now, not what you may have been a longtime ago, so please 
don^t disparage my lover to me any more,^^ and the bright- 
eyed little maiden held up two pouting lips. 

She received what she wished, and then Ealph asked, ten 
derly: 

^^And you will be my wife, Enid?^^ 

^‘Yes, Ealph.^^ 

^‘When, darling 
Whenever you wish.^^ 

‘^God bless you, my precious one; let it be soon, then, for 
I need you much, and I think you know it.^' 

^‘They conversed some time longer, and when the break- 
fast bell sounded, and their friends descended, the day was 
decided upon. 

Ealph led his promised bride directly to his father and 
mother, and proclaimed the good news; and then breakfast 
had to be delayed, much to the annoyance of the worthy 
housekeeper, half an hour, for the joyful congratulations of 
all that happy company. 

After breakfast was over, Enid, with a very mysterious 
air drew Dora and Vivien away to impart a very important 
bit of information, as she called it, to them, namely: 

That she was to be married in three weeks. 

know," she said, as both the girls held up their hands 
in dismay at the limited time, ‘^that it usually takes six 
months, at least, to complete the trousseau of a fashionable 
young lady; but I think I can do better than that; and 
then, poor Ealph is so sad and lonely, I am going to humor 
him in this. You both must be my bridesmaids; and 
Vivian, would you be willing to stand up with Mr. Weim- 
her? I don^t think he would object to you," said the 
sparkling girl, mischievously. 

Vivien blushed and stammered, and then broke down 
entirely. At last she saw it was no use to try and hide it 
longer, and made a clean breast of it, confessing that she 
was engaged to that same gentleman. 

^^Ah! you rogue, I mistrusted you long ago," said Dora. 
^^You little goose, why did you try to keep it so still?" 

“Because I wished the consent and congratulations of my 




211 


lincies, first. Mr. Weimher spoke to them yesterday, and 
we were to acknowledge the engagement to-day. But you 
see how you have rob^bed me of my secret, you heartless 
girlsl^^ 

She laughed gayly, though the tell-tale color still re- 
mained upon her fair face. 

Just then there was a rap upon the door, and a maid 
entered saying that Miss Dupont and Miss Moulton were 
requested to step into the library for a few moments. 

The two girls twined their arms about each other^s waists 
and wonderingly obeyed the summons. In the room desig- 
nated they found their lovers, who, likewise having been 
informed of the approaching nuptials of their hostess, now 
importuned their own fair brides-elect to consent to don the 
niatrim^onial bonds upon the same day, and thus make a 
triple wedding of the affair. Both demurred at first, but 
finally the ardent gentlemen overcame all obstacles, and, 
consenting, they immediately vanished to communicate the 
news to their fair hostess. 

Enid was in raptures, declaring that theirs should be a 
wedding, such as was never heard of before in the annals 
of Chichester history. 

Then ensued three weeks of such bustle and confusion as 
made worthy Mrs. Judson, the housekeeper, nearly dis- 
tracted, and the servants were kept flying hither and 
thither from early morn till dewy eve. 

The bridal morn broke calm, clear, and beautiful. The 
hour appointed for the ceremony arrived, and the three 
beautiful girls, clad in their white gleaming robes, with no 
ornaments save nature^s sweetness — pure and fragrant 
orange blossoms — were ready to confide themselves for life 
into the keeping of their hearts^ chosen ones. 

Three chariots, each drawn by a noble pair of milk-white 
steeds, bore them from the Chichester mansion to the dis- 
tant cathedral, where the bishop waited to speak the 
irrevocable words, and where anxious friends Were waiting 
to witness the brilliant wedding. 

Kalph and Enid led the way up the broad aisle to the 
foot of the sacred altar, and the words were spoken which 
bound them to each other for life. 

Then Fredrich and Vivien pledged their vows, and like- 
wise received the benediction of the holy man. 


212 


THRICE WELDED. 


Last, but not least, Eobert and Dora Joined their hands 
and re-pronounced the vows uttered in childhood, and 
which had been so faithfully and fondly kept through 
sorrows and trials, and in defiance of all disappointments 
and opposition. 

Never had the lovely girl looked more beautiful, nor her 
lover more strikingly noble and handsome, than at that 
moment when, in solemn, earnest tones, they repeated the 
marriage service that gave them anew to each other. 

Faithful hearts they truly were, and faithful we know 
they will ever remain; and there in their happiness and love 
we will leave them, bidding them a long farewell, trusting 
that the lives of each and all may be a succession of bless- 
ings, so bright that they will never fade until the greater 
brightness and glory of heaven and eternity shall burst 
upon them, enveloping them in endless bliss. 

[the ehd.] 


GODDESS IN EXILE; or, THE SPANISH 
PLOTTERS,"^ by Philip S. Warhe, will be published in 
the next number ( 81 ) of The Select Series. 


BBETHA M. CLATS 

Copyright Novels, 

IKT 

SELECT SERIES 

pRIfflRQSE 5ERIES. 


FULLY ILLUSTRATED. 


Select Series. Price, 25c. each. 

No. 22- A HEART’S BITTERNESS. 

No. 28-A HEART’S IDOL. 

No. 36-THE GIPSY’S DAUGHTER. 
No. 37-IN LOVE’S GRUGIBLE. 

No. 39-MARJORIE DEANE. 


Primrose Series. Price, 60c. each. 

No. f-ANOTHER MAN’S WIFE. 

No. 9-A WOMAN’S TEMPTATION. 

No. I l-BEYOND PARDON. 

These novels are among the best ever written by BERTHA M. 
CLAY, and are enjoying an enormous sale. They are copyrighted 
and can be had only in THE SELECT and PRIMROSE SERIES. 


For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or will be sent, posh, 
paid, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt 
of price, by 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

Ft 0. Box 2734. 31 Bose Street, New York, 


JULIA EDWARDS’ 

COPYRIGHT NOVELS 

IKT 

The Select Series. 


Price, 25 Gents Eacli. Fully Illustrated. 


No. 30-PRETTIEST OP ALL. 

No. 36-THE LITTLE WIDOW. 

No. 38-BEAUTIFUL BUT POOR. 

No. 47-SADIA THE ROSEBUD. 

No. 65-LAURA BRAYTON. 

These novels are among the best ever written 
by JULIA EDWARDS, and are enjoying an 
enormous sale. They are copyrighted and can 
be had only in THE SELECT SERIES. 


For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or will be sent, post- 
paid, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt of 
Ijrioe, 25 cents each, by 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

P. 0. B« 2734. 31 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 


IBS. BEORBIE SHELDOH’S 

Xj^7:e:s^7 

COPYRIGHT NOVELS, 

IN 

Soloot jSoriojs 

AND 

I^rixM-roiso Sox*los. 


FULLY ILLUSTRATED. 


Select Series. Price, 26c. each. 

No. 16-SIBYL’S INFLUENCE. 

No. 24-THAT DOWDY. 

No. 43-TRIXY. 

No. 44-A TRUE ARISTOCRAT. 


Primrose Series. Price, 60c. each. 

No. lO-STELLA ROSEVELT. 

No. 12-LOST-A PEARLE. 

These novels, from the pen of our gifted au- 
thor, who writes exclusively for us, are among 
her most popular productions, and hold the 
front rank in first-class literature. 


For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or will be sent, post- 
paid, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt 
of price, by 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

P. 0. Box 2734. 31 Bose Street, New York* 


The Select Series 

OP 


Popular American Copyright Stories. 



No. 79— THE GAY CAPTAIN, by 

Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No. 78— VASHTI’S FATE; or, 
PURIFIED BY FIRE, by 

Helen Corwin Pierce 25 

No. 77— THE THREE BLOWS; 


or, LOVE, PRIDE AND 
REVENGE, by Karl Drury. 25 
No. 76— A PROUD DISHONOR, 

by Genie Holtzmeyer 25 

No. 75— THE WIDOWED BRIDE, 

by Lucy Randall Comfort... 25 
No. 74-THE GRINDER PAPERS, 

by Mary Kyle I^Uas 25 

No. 73-BORN TO COMMAND, 

by Hero Strong 25 

No. 72— A MODERN MIRACLE, 

by James Franklin Fitts 25 

No. 71— THE SWEET SISTERS 
OF INCHVARRA, by Annie 
Ashmore 25 


No. 70— HIS OTHER WIFE, by Rose Ashleigh 25 

No. 69— A SILVER BRAND, by Charles T. Manners 25 

No. 68— ROSLYN’S TRUST, by Lucy C. Lillie 25 

No. 67— WILLFUL WINNIE, by Harriet Sherburne 25 

No. 66— ADAM KENT’S CHOICE, by Humphrey Elliott 25 

No. 65— LAURA BRAYTON, by JuHa Edwards 25 

No. 64— YOUNG MRS. CHARNLEIGH, by T. W. Hanshew 25 

No. 63-BORN TO BETRAY, by Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No. 62— A STRANGE PILGRIMAGE, by Mrs. J. H. Walwor'th 25 

No. 61— THE ILLEGAL MARRIAGE, by Hon. Evelyn Ashby 25 

No. 60— WON ON THE HOMESTRETCH, by Mrs. M. C. WilHams 25 

No. 59— WHOSE WIFE IS SHE? by Annie Lisle 25 

No. 58 — KILDHURM’S OAK, by Julian Hawthorne 25 

No. 57— STEPPING-STONES, by Marion Harland 25 

No. 56— THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT, by Mary A. Denison 25 

No. 55— ROXY HASTINGS, by P. Hamilton Myers 25 

No. 54^THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, by C. H. Montague 25 

No. 53— THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S, by Jean Kate Ludlum 25 

No. 52— TRUE TO HERSELF, by Mrs. J. H. Walworth 25 

No. 51— A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN’S SIN, by Hero Strong 25 

No. 50— MARRIED IN MASK, by Mansfield Tracy Walworth 25 

No. 49— GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY, by Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No, 48-THE MIDNIGHT MARRIAGE, by A. M. Douglas 25 

No. 47-SADIA THE ROSEBUD, by JuHa Edwards 25 


The Select Series. 

(Continued.) 

No. 46— A MOMENT OF MADNESS, by Charles J. Bellamy 26 

No. 45— WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, by Charlotte M. Brame.. 26 

No. 44— A TRUE ARISTOCRAT, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 26 

No. 43— TRIXY, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 26 

No. 42— A DEBT OF VENGEANCE, by Mrs. E. Burke Collins 26 

No. 41— BEAUTIFUL RIENZI, by Annie Ashmore 26 

No. 40 — AT A GIRL’S MERCY, by Jean Kate Ludlum 25 

No. 39— MARJORIE DEANE, by Bertha M. Clay 26 

No. 38— BEAUTIFUL, BUT POOR, by JuHa Edwards 25 

No. 37— IN LOVE’S CRUCIBLE, by Bertha M. Clay 26 

No. 36— THE GIPSY’S DAUGHTER, by Bertha M. Clay 26 

No. 35-CECILE’S MARRIAGE by Lucy Randall Comfort 25 

No. 34— THE LITTLI WIDOW, by JuHa Edwards 25 

No. 33— THE COUNTY FAIR, by Neil Burgess 25 

No. 32— LADY RYHOPE’S LOVER, by Emma G. Jones 25 

No. 31— MARRIED FOR GOLD, by Mrs. E. Burke Collins 25 

No. 30 — PRETTIEST OF ALL, by Julia Edwards 26 

No. 29— THE HEIRESS OF EGREMONT, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis 25 

No. 28-A HEART’S IDOL, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 27— WINIFRED, by Mary Kyle Dallas 25 

No. 26 — FONTELROY, by Francis A. Durivage 25 

No. 25— THE KING’S TALISMAN, by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr 25 

No. 24-THAT DOWDY, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 23— DENMAN THOMPSON’S OLD HOMESTEAD 25 

No. 22— A HEART’S BITTERNESS, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 21 — THE LOST BRIDE, by Clara Augusta 25 

No. 20— INGOMAR, by Nathan D. Urner 25 

No. 19— A LATE REPENTANCE, by Mrs. Mary A. Denison 25 

No. 18— ROSAMOND, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 25 

No. 17— THE HOUSE OF SECRETS, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis 25 

No. 16— SYBIL’S INFLUENCE, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 15— THE VIRGINIA HEIRESS, by Mrs. May Agnes Fleming 26 

No. 14— FLORENCE FALKLAND, by Burke Brentford 25 

N*. 13— THE BRIDE-ELECT, by Annie Ashmore 25 

No. 12— THE PHANTOM WIFE, by Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No. 11— BADLY MATCHED, by Mrs. Helen Corwin Pierce 25 

No. 10— OCTAVIA’S PRIDE, by Charles T. Manners 25 

No. 9— THE WIDOW’S WAGER, by Rose Ashleigh 25 

No. 8— WILL SHE WIN? by Emma Garrison Jones 25 

No. 7— GRATIA’S TRIALS by Lucy RandaU Comfort 25 

No. 6— A STORMY WEDDING, by Mrs. Mary E. Bryan 26 

No. 5- BRUNETTE AND BLONDE, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 25 

No. 4— BONNY JEAN, by Mrs. E. Burke CoUins 26 

No. 8— VELLA VERNELL; or, AN AMAZING MARRIAGE, by Mrs. Sumner 

Hayden... 26 

No. 2— A WEDDED WIDOW, by T. W. Hanshew 25 

No. 1— THE SENATOR’S BRIDE, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 25 

These popular books are large type editions, well printed, well bound, and 
in handsome covers. For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers ; or sent, 
postage free, on receipt of price, 25 cents each, by the publishers, 

STREET & SMITH, 

25 to 31 Bose Street, New York. 


F. O. Box 2734. 


The Secret Service Series 


DEYOTED TO STOKIES OF THE DETECTION OF CRIME. 


Ifo. 40— RUBE BURROWS’ LEAGUE, by Marline Manly 25 

No. 89— THE VESTIBULE LIMITED MYSTERY, by Alex. Robertson, M. D. 26 

No. 88— THE LOS HUECOS MYSTERY, by Eugene T. Sawyer 25 

No. 37-A WOMAN’S HAND, by Nick Carter 25 

No. 36-THE GREAT TRAVERS CASE, by Dr. Mark Merrick 25 

No. 86— MUERTALMA ; or, THE POISONED PIN, by Marmaduke Dey 25 

No. 84— DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER, by R. M. Taylor 25 

No. 33-OLD SPECIE, by Alex. Robertson, M. D 25 

No. 32-ADVENTURES AND EXPLOITS OF THE YOUNGER BROTHERS, by 

Henry Dale 25 

No. 81— A CHASE ROUND THE WORLD, by Mariposa Weir 26 

No. 80-GOLD-DUST DARRELL, by Burke Brentford 25 

No. 29-THE POKER KING, by Marline Manly 25 

No. 28-BOB YOUNGER’S FATE, by Edwin S. Deane 25 

No. 27— THE REVENUE DETECTIVE, by Police Captain James 25 

No. 26— UNDER HIS THUMB, by Donald J. McKenzie 25 

No. 25— THE NAVAL DETECTIVE’S CHASE, by Ned BuntUne 25 

No. 24— THE PRAIRIE DETECTIVE, by Leander P. Richardson 25 

No. 28— A MYSTERIOUS CASE, by K. F. Hill 25 

No. 22— THE SOCIETY DETECTIVE, by Oscar Maitland 26 

No. 21— THE AMERICAN MARQUIS, by Nick Carter 25 

No. 20— THE MYSTERY OF A MADSTONE, by K. F. Hill 25 

No. 19— THE SWORDSMAN OF WARSAW, by Tony Pastor 25 

No. 18— A WALL STREET HAUL, by Nick Carter 25 

No. 17— THE OLD DETECTIVE’S PUPIL, by Nick Carter 25 

No. 16— THE MOUNTAINEER DETECTIVE, by Clayton W. Cobb 25 

No. 15— TOM AND JERRY, by Tony Pastor 25 

No. 14— THE DETECTIVE’S CLEW, by “Old Hutch.” 25 

No. 13— DARKE DARRELL, by Frank H. Stauffer 25 

No. 12— THE DOG DETECTIVE, by Lieutenant Murray 25 

No. 11— THE MALTESE CROSS, by Eugene T. Sawyer 25 

No. 10— THE POST-OFFICE DETECTIVE, by George W. Goode 25 

No. 9— OLD MORTALITY, by Young Baxter 25 

No. 8— LITTLE LIGHTNING, by Police Captain Janies 25 

No. 7— THE CHOSEN MAN, by Judson R. Taylor 25 

No. 6— OLD STONEWALL, by Jndson R. Taylor 25 

No. 5— THE MASKED DETECTIVE, by Judson R. Taylor 25 

No. 4— THE TWIN DETECTIVES, by K. F. Hill 26 

No. 8— VAN, THE GOVERNMENT DETECTIVE, by “Old Sleuth.” 25 

No. 2— BRUCE ANGELO, THE CITY DETECTIVE, by “Old Sleuth.” 25 


No. 1— BRANT ADAMS, THE EMPEROR OF DETECTIVES, by “Old Sleuth.” 25 

For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or will be sent, postage 
free, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt of price, 
25 cents each, by the publishers, 

STREET & SMITH, 

r. 0. Box 2734. 25 to 31 Bose Street^ Neir York. 


Jl^e Si^a ai^d Sl7ore Seri^5. 


Stories of Strange Adventure Ashore and Atloat. 


PEICE, 25 CENTS EACH. 

Ko. 28-TEXAS JACK, by Ned Buntline. 

No. 27— CAMILLE, by Alexandre Dumas, ills. 

No. 26-EED DICK, THE TIGEE OE CALIFOENIA, by Ned 
Buntline. 

No. 25-DASHING CHAELIE, by Ned Buntline. 

No. 24-BUFrALO BILL’S LAST VICTOEY, by Ned Buntline. 
No. 23-BUFFALO BILL’S BEST SHO , by Ned BnntBne. 

No. 22-THE STEUGGLE FOE MAYEEICK, by J. F. Fitts. 
No. 21— EOCKY MOUNTAIN SAM, by Burke Brentford. 

No. 20-THE HOUSE OF SILENCE, by Dr. J. H. Eobinsoo. 

No. 19-THE lEISH MONTE CEISTO’S TEAIL, by Alex. Eobert- 
son, M. D. 

No. 18-THE YANKEE CHAMPION, by Sylyanus Cobb., Jr. 

No. 17— FEDOEA, from the famous play of the same name, by 
Yictorien Sardou. 

No. 16-SIBALLA, THE SOECEEESS, by Prof. Wm. H. Peck. 
No. 15-THE GOLDEN EAGLE, by Sylyanus Cobb, Jr. 

No. ll-THE FOETUNE-TELLEE OF NEW OELEANS,by Prof. 
Wm. H. Peck. 

No. 13-THE lEISH MONTE CEISTO ABEOAD, by Alex. Eob- 
ertson, M.D. 

No. 12-HELD FOE EANSOM, by Lieut. Murray. 

No. 11-THE lEISH MONTE CEISTO’S SEAECH, by Alex. 
Eobertson, M. D. 

No. 10— LA TOSCA^ from the celebrated play, by Yictorien 
Sardou. 

No. 9-THE MAN IN BLUE, by Mary A. Denison. 

No. 8-BEN HAMED, by Sylyanus Cobb, Jr. 

No. 7— EUY BLAS, by Victor Hu^o. 

No. 6— THE MASKED LADY, by Lieutenant Murray. 

No. 5— THEODOEA, from the celebrated play, by Yictorien 
Sardou. 

No. 4-THE LOCKSMITH OF LYONS, by Prof. Wm. H. Peck. 
No. 8-THE BEOWN PEINCESS, by Mrs. M. Y. Victor. 

No. 2-THE SILYEE SHIP, by Lewis Leon. 

No. 1-AN lEISH MONTE CEISTO. 

For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or will be sent, postage 
free, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt of price, 
25 cents each, by the publishers, STEEET & SMITH, 

ft Of ^ox 2734. , 25. 27, 29 and 31 Bose Street, New Yor%. 



FL Wayne, Cincinnati, and LouisTiiie Raiiroad. 

“Natutal 6as Roate.” The Popular Short Line 


—BETWEEN— 

Peoria, Bloomington, Chicago, St. Louis, Springfield, Lafayette, 
Frankfort, Muncie, Portland, Lima, Findlay, Fostoria, 
Fremont, Sandusky, Indianapolis, Kokomo, Peru, 
Kochester, Plymouth, LaPorte, Michigan 
City, Ft. Wayne, Hartford, Bluffton, 
ConnersTille, and Cincinnati, making 
Direct Connections for all Points East, West, North, and South* 


THE ONLY LINE TRATERSINO 

The Great Natural Gas and Oil Fields 

Of Ohio and Indiana, giving the patrons of this Popular Route an 
opportunity to witness the grand sight from the train as they pass 
through. Great fields covered with tanks in which are stored millions 
of gallons of Oil, Natural Gas wells shooting their flames high in the 
air, and the most beautiful cities, fairly alive with glass and all kinds 
of factories. 

We furnish our patrons with Elegant Reclining Chair Car Seats Free 
on day trains, and L., E. & W. Palace Sleeping and Parlor Cars on night 
trains, at very reasonable rates. 

Direct connections to and from Cleveland, Buffalo, New York, Boston, 
Philadelphia, Baltimore, Pittsburg, Washington, Kansas City, Denver, 
Omaha, Portland, San Francisco, and all points in the United States 
and Canada. 

This is the popular route with the ladies, on account of its courteous 
and accommodating train officials, and with the commercial traveler 
and general public for its comforts, quick time and sure connections. 

For any further particulars call on or address any ticket agent. 

H. C. PARKER, CHAS. F. DALY, 

Traffic Manager, Geu’l Pass. & Tkt. Agt. 

Indianapolis, Ind, 


PROVIDENCE & STONINOTON S. S. CO. 



NEW YORK 


Providence, 

AND ALL EAi 

PROVIDENCE LINE. 

(May to November.) 

The longest water route and short- 
est rail ride (only 42 miles) of any 
Sound Line. Steamers the peers 
of any in the World. An orches- 
tra on each. Parlor Car Trains 
direct from Steamers’ Landing to 
Boston and Worcester. Connec- 
ting for all points in New England. 
During the season a Parlor Car 
Train runs from Steamers’ Landing 
to the 

WHITE MOUNTAINS 
Without Change* 
Steamers leave Pier 29, N. R., 
daily, except Sunday, at 5 or 5:30 
P. M. 



BETWEEN 


& BOSTON, 

Worcester, 

TERN POINTS. 

STONINGTON LINE. 

(Throii^liout the Year.) 

This is the Inside Route, and 
especially safe and comfortable 
in Winter. Connects at Stoning- 
ton with THEEE Express Trains 
for Boston, Worcester, and all 
points North and East. Steamboat 
Express to and from Boston has 
reclining chair Parlor Cars with- 
out extra charge. This is the only 
direct Sound route in Summer to 

narragansett pier 

and WATCH HILL. 

Steamers leave New Pier 36, N. R., 
daily, except Sunday, at 4:30 or 5 
P. M. 


Send for Book of Summer Excursion 
Tours and Rates 

to O. H. BRICCS, 

J. W. Miller, Cen’l Pass. Agent, 

Preset. New Pier 36, N# Rc, New Tork# 



THE 

Delaware 

AND 

Hudson 

Railroad. 


THE ONIiY DIRECT ROUTE TO THE GREAT 


IDIRONDICII nODIITAINS. 


Lake George, Lake Champlain, Ausable Chasm, the Adiron- 
dack Mountains, Saratoga, Kound; Lake, Sharon 
Springs, Cooperstown, Howe’s Cave, and the 
Celebrated Gravity Railroad between Carbon - 
dale and Honesdale, Fa., present the 
Greatest Combination of Health and Pleasure Resorts in America* 

THE DIRECT EINE TO THE SUPERB SUMMER HOTED 
OF THE NORTH, 

“THE HOTEL CHAMPLAIN,” 

(Three Miles South of Plattsburgh, on Lake Champlain). 


The Shortest and Most Comfortable Route 
Between New York and Montreal. 

In Connection with the Erie Railway, the most Picturesque 
and Interesting Route between Chicago and Boston* 

The only through Pullman Line* 


Inclose Six Cents in Stamps for lUustrated Guide to 

H. C. YOUNG, J. W. BURDICK, 

2d Vioe-President, Oenq Faas. Agent, Albany, N. T, 





THE FINEST ON EARTH 


Pullman Perfected Safety 


WITH DINING- CAB 

BETWEEN 


CINCINNATI, 

INDIANAPOLIS, 

AND CHICAGfO. 


THE FAYOBITE LIKE 

CmonATIto ST.LHS, 

Keokuk* Springfield, 

find JPeoria, 


THE ONLY DIRECT LINS 
BETWEEN 

Cincinnati, Dayton, Findlay, 

Lima^ Toledo^ Detroit^ 

THE LAKE REGIONS and OANADl. 


PULLMAN SLEEPERS ON NIGHT TRAINS. 

Parlor and Chair Cars on Day Trains between Cincinnati and 
Points Enumerated, the Tear Round. 

iD.v(m,wn &.ypiBHicE,taMW 




Jt7E pi^l/T)I^OSE 5Ei^lE5 

O IT 

WORLD’S BEST FICTION, 

Comprising translations of the best foreign fiction, together with the 
works of popular Eugiisli and American Authors. 


ISSUED PHIQE, 50 


No. I — Another Man’s Wife, by Bertha M. Clay. 50 
No. 2 -The Belle of the Season, hy Mrs. Harriet 


Lewis 50 

No. 3-Doctor Jack, by St. George Bathborne 50 

No. 4 -Kathleen Douglas, by Julia Truitt Bishop. 50 

No. 5-Her Royal Lover, by Ary Lcilaw 50 

No. 6 Jose, by Otto lluppius 50 

No. 7-His Word of Honor, by E. Werner 50 

No. 8 A Parisian Romance, by A. 1). Hall 50 

No. 9— A Woman’s Temptation, by Bertha M. 

Clay 50 

No. 10 Stella Rosevelt, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 50 
No. I I— Beyond Pardon, by Bertha M. Clay 50 

No. 12 Lost A Pearle, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 50 

No. 13 The Partners, by Alphonse Daudet 50 

No. 14 Sardou’s Cleopatra, by A. D. Hall 50 

No. 15 The Lone Ranch, by Capt. Mayne Reid . . . . 50 
No. 16 Put Asunder, by Bertha M. Clay 50 


THE PRIMROSE SERIES combines the highest art of book- 
making with the best fiction that can be obtained. For sale by all 
Booksellers and Newsdealers; or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 
STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, 

P. O. BOX 2734. 25-31 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 


THE SELECT SERIES 

OF 

POPULAR AMERICAN COPYRIGHT STORIES. 

No. 81— A GODDESS IN EXILE, by PhiHp S. Warne ........... 25 

No. 80— THRICE WEDDED, BUT ONLY ONCE A WIFE, by Mrs. Sheldon 25 

No. 79— THE GAY CAPTAIN, by Mrs. M. V. Victor " ' 25 

No. 78-VASHTI’S FATEj or, PURIFIED BY FIRE, by Helen Cyrwin Pierce 25 

No. 77— THE THREE BLOWS, by Karl Drury 05 

No. 76— A PROUD DISHONOR, by Genie Holtzmeyer 25 

No. 75-THE WIDOWED BRIDE, by Lucy Randall Comfort.. 25 

No. 74-THE GRINDER PAPERS, by Mary Kyle Dallas O', 

No. 73-BORN TO COMMAND, by Hero Strong ” ^ ^ ' y. ‘I 5 

No. 72 — A MODERN MIRACLE, by James Franklin Fitts 25 

No. 71 — THE SWEET SISTERS OF INCHVARRA, by Annie Ashmore ‘>5 

No. 70— HIS OTHER WIFE, by Rose Ashleigh ^ 25 

No. 69 — A SILVER BRAND,’ by* Charles T. Manners o-, 

No. 68 — ROSLYN’S TRUST, by Lucy C. Lillie.... .. o!- 

No. 67-WILLFUL WINNIE, by Harriet Sherburne ^ T. ^ ^ T. ! ... ' 25 

No. 66 — ADAM KENT’S CHOICE, by Humphrey Elliott of, 

No. 65 — LAURA BRAYTON, by^ Julia Edwards of/ 

No. 64— YOUNG MRS. CHARNLEIGH. by T. W. Hanshew^ ^ * ” ' ' . T. . " r. ^ 25 

No. 63— BORN TO BETRAY, by Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No. 62— A STRANGE PILGRIMAGE, by Mrs. J. H. Walworth 25 

No. 61 — THE ILLEGAL MARRIAGE, by Hon. Evelvn Ashby 25 

No. 60— WON ON THE HOMESTRETCH, by Mrs. M. C. Williams 2 .^ 

No. 59 — WHOSE WIFE IS SHE? by Annie Lisle 25 

No. 58 — KILDHURM’S OAK, by Julian Hawthorne.. 25 

No. 57— STEPPING-STONES; by Marion Harland. 25 

No. 56— THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT, by Mary A. Denison 25 

No. 55— ROXY HASTINGS, by P. Hamilton Myers 25 

No. 54— THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, by C. H. Montague ...!..^ 25 

No. 53— THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S, by Jean Kate Ludlum 25 

No. 52— TRUE TO HERSELF, by Mrs. J. H. Walworth 25 

No. 51— A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN’S SIN, by Hero Strong 25 

No. 50— MARRIED IN MASK, by Mansfield Tracy Walworth 25 

No. 49-GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY, by Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No. 48 -THE MIDNIGHT MARRIAGE, by A. M. Douglas ' 2.5 

No. 47— SADIA THE ROSEBUD, by Julia Edwards....... 2.5 

No. 46— A MOMENT OF MADNESS, by Charles J. Bellamy 25 

No. 45-WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, by Charlotte M. Brame - .... 25 

No. 44-A TRUE ARISTOCRAT, bv Mrs. Georgie Sheldon ... 25 

No. 43 — TRIXY, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 42-A DEBT OF VENGEANCE, bv Mrs. E. Burke ColHns 25 

No. 41 -BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. by Annie Ashmore : 25 

No. 40— AT A GIRL’S MERCY, by Jean Kate Ludlum.... 25 

No. 39— MARJORIE DEANE,, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 38— BEAUTIFUL. BUT POOR, bv Julia Edwards....... 25 

No. 37— IN LOVE’S CRUCIBLE, bv Bertha M. Clay.......’ .; V. 25 

No. 36— THE GIPSY’S DAUGHTER, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 35- CECILE’S MARRIAGE by Lucy Randall Comfort' 25 

Tho.so p()]inlnr hooks :in* lorsro t\ i)o (Mlirions, woll priured. woll hoiuid, ami 
in haiidsoino (M»v(>rs. F()r sal«' Ity all Booksollor.s an<l X(‘\vsdeal(M's ; or sour. 
postage free, on recoipr of prico, 25 of'iir.s (‘arli. by the pnblishprs, 

STREET & SMITH. 

25 to 31 Rose Street, New York. 


P. O. Box 2734. 



I 

r"' 



I 

i 




i. 


V 

< 




I 


Vt 


( 





» « 


i 


t 





. » 


' A 

t 


> * 
.•• t > 
1 . 


t 


r 


»/ 




< 

» I 




* /« 


• T 




i 


1 

% 




» 





♦ 




A 


\ 



t 



4 


I 




« 


V- 

* 

k ' • 

% • 


y I * • . 

; . •' 

■ ; '•> 

\ ‘ 

A / 

‘j 



t 

f 






• Y'p 

I 

!*. ’ 



1 • 


\ 




- i 

/ 





4 


t 

. I 



> 


I ' • 
’ J 1. 


I 



I 


/ 



I 


A 

I 




i 






I 


i 

t 








. r 





LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



